Hiraeth: The 22nd Hunger Games
by TheAmazingJAJ
Summary: Panem is broken. The unthinkable crippled the nation on what was supposed to be the greatest day of the year, and President Ember is looking for answers. She may find those with the help of Carameuse Heloise, but they'll have to move fast. After all, the Hunger Games wait for no one.
1. Things Fall Apart

The atmosphere is festive, the Capitol ecstatic as the 12th of May approaches. Children in their classrooms bounce excitedly in their seats, unable to pay attention to their teachers, their minds only on the fireworks that will be going off soon. Even rain approaching doesn't dampen the mood of the Capitol; shopkeepers still jauntily hang up flags of Panem and sell memorabilia from past games and symbols of Panem to excited citizens even as dark, bulging rain clouds in the sky are rapidly removed by the weather-control crew. The excitement is too big to contain, too happy to put down, so students impatiently tap their feet on the floor until Panem Day begins. It's a holiday for all of Panem; the districts having been quickly cleared of any undesirable citizens or buildings in the weeks before the big day by squads of peacekeepers so that the broadcasting of the fireworks in every district will be the brightest yet, be the most perfect day since the declaration of the Hunger Games by the Capitol twenty-two years before.

As the day dawns, thirteen frantic groups of engineers work at breakneck speed on their displays, each readying the fireworks that will light up the night in the main cities of the districts and the Capitol. The celebrations are a mandatory event, small villages in the hills of Two and fishing towns in Four have all been warned to sign into the check-in centres dotting the roads entering each main city. Only those on the verge of death and hospital employees are excused from the celebrations, told to continue their valuable services for the nation or waste away quickly so as to avoid more money spent on them. But the Capitol will at least _attempt_ to keep them alive. The Capitol is a gracious Capitol, after all.

Young children looking to make a few sesterces are told to sweep the streets of the capital cities of their districts, quickly pushing away the dirt and rubbish that litters the district into dumpsters so that even the cobblestones can look tidy for the holiday. But no children have been asked to help in the Capitol. Avoxes have already been assigned that job for decades.

As school children run amoc in the Capitol, excitedly chattering to their friends and their mothers who've paused their weekly routines of plastic surgery for the big day about how they're going to carry sparklers in the parade. Even President Ember catches the spirit, making a rare appearance in the Capitol wearing a summer hat that causes several tabloids to frantically publish stories about what fashion icons had designed her outfit and how she had essentially started a war in Capitol clothing lines. But the mood is stiff in the districts, with more and more peacekeepers being shipped to the capital cities to watch for trouble. It's Panem's biggest celebration - not even the birds are allowed to step out of line. Peacekeepers have been ordered to shoot pigeons who perch on the roof of the Justice Buildings.

But when the big day finally arrives, everything goes to hell.

 **.oOo.**

Helena Strong teeters around the streets of One, her dishevelled party hat awkwardly hanging off of the side of her thin face. Her curly blonde hair is clinging to her sweaty back, and the bottle of strong beer in her hand's about to splash onto the cobblestones of the street she and her friends have picked to watch the fireworks from.

Helena's drunk.

"You need any help?" asks a pale brunette in a short blouse and a shorter skirt, hiccuping as she tosses back her hair from over her face. "You're looking a bit under the weather, 'Lena."

Helena waves her away, a dreamy smile on her face as she watches the sky. "It's Panem Day, Sparkle! No work! We don't gotta keep blinding ourselves in those tiny-ass rooms!"

"Yeah!" shouts a man in a tacky green shirt and with short white hair, stumbling through the crowd with a bottle in his hand. "Panem Day!"

The crowd cheers, more due to the fact that half of them have bottles of beer in their hands than the fact that it's Panem Day. Then the fireworks begin and the crowd cheers once more, the red and white fireworks lighting up the night.

No one saw the person who crept up behind Helena and stabbed her in the neck before stuffing a white piece of paper into her mouth. But they all heard the screams.

 **.oOo.**

It's only the upper class of Three that celebrates Panem Day.

The Ember-Ville residents are forced to take the long ride to the main city, of course, but none of them enjoy the occasion. Even if it's just a day off of work, there's been too many long days and pay cuts in the factories for them to celebrate. So the silent workers crowd the lower streets of the city, keeping their distance from the rowdy upper class of Three. They won't associate themselves with those who seem as bad as the Capitol to their eyes.

The fireworks start to go off and the workers shake their heads at the cost, only small children gasping in delight at the beautiful display of pyrotechnics. But the crowd is silent as the celebration begins, the cry of a small baby drifting through the crowd. He's scared of the fireworks lighting up the night sky.

But then a scream, then a gunshot shatters the relative silence, causing the crowd to murmur. Is it a firework? Is it some disgruntled worker?

Three men in black masks appear at the front of the crowd, brandishing pistols and screaming at the crowd to run. Peacekeepers try to tackle them, but one manages to escape into the crowd and starts to shoot. A little girl stumbles and falls down in the middle of the crowd, a swelling bruise appearing on the side of her cheek and tears streaming off of her face. "Mama! Mama!"

The shooter stops at the little girl and regards her silently, twirling his pistol in his fingers before handing the frightened child a small note, decorated with bright-red blood. Before the shooter has a chance to move, a trigger-happy peacekeeper shoots the man quickly. The shooter's body topples down to the side of the little girl before the peacekeepers grab her up and calm her down, carrying her away from the crowd. The mother's nowhere to be found, and they take her back to their headquarters to keep her safe until someone comes to claim her.

But they don't see the blood splattered note in her hand until the next morning.

 **.oOo.**

District Six is always bustling during Panem Day.

The morphlings that litter the streets have been shut away in the jails for disturbing the peace weeks before the big day, meaning that the district is clean of drugs for the few weeks that the morphlings will be held in the peacekeeper headquarters. After all, the Capitol can't see the flaws of the districts. Why show them the districts at all if they don't like what they see?

Vendors who've asked for licenses from the Capitol are selling goods at every corner, the mood jovial and festive in the capital city of Six. Kids are running through the streets with little sparklers that kind peacekeepers handed out just hours before, and adults are chatting quietly with one another with glasses of water in their hands. They're all grateful for the holiday. It's one of the few reprieves they have from morphling addicts.

A hush of anticipation falls over the people as the fireworks are about to begin, a massive cheer rising from the crowd as the first one lights up the night sky. The fact that most have shut off their apartment lights and the factories are closed let the fireworks shine ever brighter in the sky, and television crews eagerly zoom in on the awestruck faces of young children watching the display. But it's not because of the fireworks they're watching the sky so eagerly, no matter how flashy they might be. For many, it's the first time they've ever seen the stars.

But as the fireworks go off, shouts of rage and anger come drifting into the crowds.

Some react instantly as gang members come streaming into the crowd, running for the nearest building and locking the doors as they pound up the stairs, but most of the crowd panics and stampede towards the Justice Building. A scream is heard when a gunshot goes off, and the fireworks keep exploding in the sky, providing the background to this perfect cacophony.

A man in a red jacket and a tattooed six on his right-hand pushes aside a young mother and her child, running towards the display of fireworks. The frightened engineers scatter as he and other gang members race towards the table, pushing aside fireworks and control buttons as they continue their search. The exhibition is now out of control, random fireworks firing into the air and colliding with one another as the people run.

A thin woman with the same red jacket as the man shouts in recognition as she finds a small case on the table, opening it as other gang members crowd around her. "What in Panem's name..."

All that's in the case is a small piece of white paper.

 **.oOo.**

A peacekeeper trudges through a large field, beckoning his fellow officers towards the thicket of trees at the edge of the pasture. "Hurry up! Let's just get this over with so we can go back to the fireworks."

"You mean the free beer," another peacekeeper laughs, and the squadron ripples with amusement. "But we got to follow this lead. I think Collins was assigned to it already, but then he phoned in and asked for backup an hour ago. Sounded nervous too."

"Who cares?" yells a peacekeeper at the back of the group as they approach the trees. "It's just going to be some stash of morphling or something. We can deal with it tomorrow. I'm feeling like it's going to be a good party night tonight!"

"The caller was adamant about it being tonight. Something about evidence and whatnot." the head peacekeeper tugs at his helmet as the rest follow him quickly, walking into the bushes and searching for their target. The six peacekeepers quickly fan out throughout the bushes, their guns drawn and ready to shoot in case this is some trap. Worse things have been attempted on peacekeepers in eight. One of the more experienced peacekeepers stumbles over something in the bushes and swears angrily, holding his foot in his hands. "What the fu - oh shit. It's Collins, isn't it?"

The stiff body of a peacekeeper lies in the middle of the bushes, blood staining his pristine uniform. A younger officer takes off the man's helmet before throwing off his own and retching his last meal onto the ground beside the body, unable to stomach the torn skin and white gleam of bone poking through the man's destroyed face.

They almost miss the small white note clenched in the corpse's hand. But when they grimly shoulder their fellow peacekeeper up and march back, they find it all the same.

 **.oOo.**

 **DISASTER ON PANEM DAY!**

 **GRIM MASSACRE IN FOUR DISTRICTS AS PANEM MOURNS**

 **WHERE WERE OUR PEACEKEEPERS WHEN WE NEEDED THEM?**

President Ember looks up at the woman draped in a grey trenchcoat as she spreads the newspapers across her large desk, the grim headlines popping out of the front page. "One death in One, twelve in Three, one in Six - but it was an older citizen who suffered from a heart attack during the panic - and the deliberate murder of one of Panem's finest in Ten. All four crimes on what is supposed to be the one day Panem is united."

The women looks up from the newspapers, her grey eyes flashing at the President. "And what's the connection?"

"Four little notes, all in the centre of the crimes. All bearing the same three words."

The woman pushes back her grey hair, her smooth, olive toned skin shining in the light. "What did they say, Madame President?"

"They said that _Ember is next_. Obviously, this case is all under wraps; I don't need another panic about this so close to the Games, and seven more legions of peacekeepers have been sent out for extra security in the districts. I need you to help, Carameuse. You're an old friend, and you know how to see through people better than anyone I know."

"You've found suspects?"

"Five of them, to be precise. A Capitol-Appointed mentor, a game maker, and three rising politicians, all eager for their superiors to give up the ghost. They're all booked for a long train ride through the districts as the Games start. And by the time they come back, one of them will be arrested. I _can_ count on you, of course?"

"Of course." Carameuse Heloise shakes her friend's hand tightly, her grey eyes smiling firmly. "When do I leave?"

* * *

 **A/N: Welcome to my second full canon SYOT! (or my fourth SYOT in total if we count Impossible and EVM ;D) I'm excited to start writing for this one, so I'm going to work hard on Distorted so that I can get to the finale and get to writing this! Because I have a little feeling telling me that this is going to be a great SYOT :D**

 **Anyways, this prologue pretty much sums up the feeling of this SYOT. A fun little murder mystery will be the main subplot, with a few little surprises dotting this story! I think we're going to have a grand old time with Hiraeth!**

 **Anyways, if you want to sub, the link to the google form is on my profile. By the way, I'm floored by how many subs I've gotten already. TWENTY TWO! TWENTY TWO! I was expecting, like, one, and was surprised back when I wrote this chapter, when there was SEVEN subs! XDD Anyways, that's a nice little surprise to have, and I'm hoping this prologue draws a few more people to this story.**

 **Since the last of the three prologues (I've already written the second and half of the third) will tie into Distorted, expect it around the finale of that SYOT. If you want, follow that one! I promise it's all worth it ;)**

 **Finally, have a good old time! It's not first come first serve, so shape your tribute carefully and look over my headcanons. I've got a few good ones, and I'm pleased to see that a few subs have already implemented them into their backstories! Until the next prologue, TheAmazingJAJ**


	2. 4:50 from Paddington

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

The elegant streamliner glides into the station, porters - well, avoxes dressed up in fancy hats and bright red suits to take the place of actual porters - scurrying around the station with bags and Capitol citizens descending from the stairs of the trains, tan lines evident from their vacations in Four and Seven. She loves crowds of people, it's wonderful to just let herself be swallowed by the crowd and listen to their secrets. It's how she apprehended her first rebel, after all. And how she met Fiammetta, making friends with the President of Panem before she even rose into a spot in government. But she can't listen to Panem's secrets behind these lines of velvet ropes and walls of muscular bodyguards, standing around Carameuse and Fiammetta Ember.

Fiammetta breathes in the air deeply and turns to her friend, small wrinkles forming as she frowns deeply. "You'll take care of yourself on that train, I presume."

"I've been in worse situations, Fiammetta." Carameuse watches the guests for the 'Celebration Express', dubbed so by Fiammetta for her tenth anniversary as President of Panem. "You'll be joining us in a few days?"

"You know I must be here for the Parade and the beginning of the Games, but I'll join you as soon as I can." Fiammetta nods her head slowly, extending her hand out to Carameuse to shake. "Be careful on the train. I don't trust any of those snakes."

"I'll be safe with four of them, Fiammetta. Only one of the suspects is guilty, after all. I'll be _fine_."

"I hope, for all of our sakes." Fiammetta breathes a deep, shuddery sigh, looking up at Carameuse before hugging her tightly. "The press might eat me alive for this, but I'm rooting for you."

Carameuse nods, drawing the folds of her trenchcoat further about her. "I don't enjoy your idea of my fashion senses for this journey. Do I really have to wear these dresses?"

"Of course. These are the high ends of the high ends of society. They won't appreciate your skulking about in that drab grey trenchcoat, especially with all of those escorts on the train. They won't take kindly to your idea of comfort."

"I won't be comfortable," Carameuse warns, her eyes flashing in the light of the early morning. There's still a bit of a mist clinging onto the train station, and it only heightens her observations. Everything seems better under a veil of mystery.

But then again, she's always been a bit morbid. It'll do her some good to enjoy the sunshine for once in a while. After all, she's been told to relax while scrutinizing the suspects. It should be good for her health, after all.

But it _will_ be a wonderful train ride. Maybe there'll be a lovely little murder. After all, the killer's struck four times. Carameuse doesn't underestimate them to do so once more. It's all rather like the child's game, Traitor or Mafia or whatever young children tended to call it at the moment, where no one knows who really are the killers, or even who their roommate is. They know nothing - except for what they are themselves.

She won't even let them suspect that she's about to identify Panem's most dangerous person. She'll be an unassuming little dumb blonde, seemingly unaware of everything around her.

Oh, she does love a holiday!

 **Hart Bison, 48  
** **Avox**

Panem, please help him retain his sanity.

The guests are starting to board the train, all cooing in delight at the extravagant decorations adorning the sides of the dining car. Some drop their luggage for other avoxes to scoop up and hurry to compartments and bunks, while others attempt to help the servants by stumbling over their silly little high heels with bags the height of their necks.

They're even worse than last time he served on the trains for the Panem-wide circuit. Somehow, the Capitolites have managed to have twice the amounts of frills and baggage as last time. It's enough for him to wish that he was a simple house servant. It would be much simpler than this life.

A small child, brown curls enveloping her shining cheeks and green eyes, pulls at his sleeve and points at the serving tables. "May I have some wah-ter, please?"

Hart nods and pours her a glass, observing her face with an intense gaze. Oh, she's every bit the girl that his little Sally is. Right down to the little freckles on her cheeks and her cock-eyed smile and the -

"Watch it!" An older man bumps into Hart and sends him stumbling into a table, the small table rocking slightly before settling back down. "Don't look too closely at my daughter. I don't like your eyes."

Hart gulps and nods, hurrying away with a serviette draped over his arm before the man can threaten him. He can't get distracted like that once more. He doesn't want to be repurposed, no matter how rebellious his thoughts may get on the train rides. He has to keep focus.

He hurries through the train and enters the private room for avoxes, nodding to three of his coworkers engaged in a conversation. _Any interesting discoveries yet today?_ he signs to them, and one of the women, Felicia, answers quickly.

 _None in particular, but Arthur has met a fascinating young man who seems a bit off to him._ The woman pauses and runs her hands through her brown hair, then fastens her crimson choker before continuing to speak. _And I think that there is a detective on this train._

 _You wish there was, Felicia,_ Arthur signs with a scornful smile, shaking his head slowly. _Grey trenchcoats and chemicals in suitcases do not a detective make. Do you not think that they might be for her complexion?_

Felicia makes a guttural groan of frustration, standing up for attention. _She is different than other Capitolites, Arthur. She does not have the same silly airs about her that they do._

Hart shrugs his wide shoulders, preparing to turn back into the hallway. _I have to go back. You two continue your conversations._

Through the halls he hurries, bumping into a man who surely is nothing other than one of the game makers of this year's Games. Hart struggles to hold back a grunt of disgust and bows towards the man, feeling a shiver run up his spine as he moves towards the back of the train.

Maybe Felicia and Arthur _are_ right.

 **A/N: Another prologue! The next one is our final prologue, so be excited for that! First of all: thoughts on these characters? Hart might show up a bit more often in this story if you like him, so I want to hear your opinions!**

 **We've gotten thirty seven subs so far, and I'm kind of in awe XD Keep on subbing! As well as that, I'm finally one chapter away from finishing Distorted, so once that is up, it's one thing more off of my plate. Man, I'm excited for Hiraeth!**

 **Next chapter will reveal the tribute list (and maybe a blog but likely not cause I'm laaaaaaazy) so be prepared :D I've gotten a great amount of tributes and a lot of them are amazing, so I'm very excited to write them.**

 **Keep on submitting! The deadline is tonight (well, at least when I get up tomorrow XP), so be prepared… see you at our last prologue, introducing the mentors of our tributes this time! Until then, TheAmazingJAJ**


	3. The Sweetness At The Bottom Of The Pie

**District One Victors:  
** **Ben Quick, 27  
** **Bernadette Rose, 21**

Ben stretches over the side of his sofa and yawns loudly, causing Bernadette to snicker. "I should have realized back in the academy that you were as human as me. Six years of my life, all wasted thinking that you were Panem reborn, Ben."

"That's Benedict to you," retorts Ben, nodding to Samuel as he enters the room. The twenty-first victor nods back to his former headmaster and shivers, his lips starting to turn blue again. Ben swears and leaps over the couch with a blanket, covering the shivering victor with the blue comforter. "Get something warm, Bernadette. He's going into one of his spells again."

Bernadette runs into Ben's kitchen and looks through the familiar outline, grabbing a cup and filling it with the coffee that Ben had brewed half an hour ago. The coffee isn't steaming, but the cup is warm and she decides that it's worthy of helping Sam get warm again. She hands it to the teen and he slurps it up eagerly, the blue blanket still hanging over his shoulders. "Th-thanks. I just caught up in the flashback again so much… oh Panem, it was bad this time."

"The game makers shouldn't have been messing around with that new tracker for all of you," soothes Ben, patting the boy on the back. "It completely ruined that beach that your Games was on, your trackers chilling your blood and all. You'll just keep going for your monthly appointments to help leech out those fluids in your bloodstream until it's all gone, and then you'll never have to be cold again."

Sam nods wearily, staggering to the couch and curling up in a small huddle. "That… that tired me out. I'm going to take a quick nap."

He starts to snore before the other victors have a chance to respond, his body hidden under the blue blanket. Bernadette sighs in relief and turns back to Ben, her hazel-green eyes shining with pity. "You don't have to always act like Headmaster Quick. I don't know what your parents or the Games did to you to make you turn so paternal, but you've got to live for yourself, Ben. You don't have to save all of us."

"We're all broken, Bern. Even you."

She doesn't answer.

 **District Two Victors:  
** **Natalia Haines, 32  
** **Caleb Stamos, 25**

The cadet sits nervously in the uncomfortable seat that Natalia has drawn out for him, scratching the back of his neck as he looks towards the door. "You wanted me, Mr. Stamos?"

The blind victor nods and looks down in dark sunglasses, mussing his hair up with his thick fingers. "Yes, I've been expecting you for a few minutes now. I'm impressed with your promptness. I need you to tell the instructors to pick five cadets from the ranks for an analysis by Natalia and Clay, alright?"

"Yes, that makes sense. I'll - I'll go do it right now so that they can choose quickly." The cadet shakes Caleb's hand and darts out of the door, straight towards the classrooms and the training wards. Natalia shakes her head and rests on the desk, looking up at the ceiling where a spider is spinning a small web around the light.

"Why do you always have students perform duties that I could easily do myself, Caleb? Do you _want_ them to spread the news to the entire academy before it even reaches the instructors?"

"I believe that cadets should get that kind of treatment so that they feel like they're helping us out. It's never nice to be a teen and not be in the know. But you wouldn't remember being young and free, you old fogey," laughs Caleb, his faded eyes creasing into amusement behind his sunglasses. Natalia shakes her head and laughs along with the younger victor.

"You're right, you're right, I'm too harsh on some of the students. But they do get quite rowdy when they think no one's watching - I've had a few complaints from inkeepers down in the city that our cadets have been raiding the bars."

"Then they'll learn that having a hangover during class isn't the greatest feeling in the world. If we let them experience it, we prepare them for everything we can in the arena. And that's all we can really do, Natalia. It's all we can do."

 **District Three Victors:  
** **Kaitlynn Spark, 32**

She screws another bolt back into her dismantled toaster, her screwdriver twisting the bolt back into the machine. Her sister leans across the counter and sighs deeply, scratching the back of her neck and looking towards Kaitlynn. "Why do you keep taking apart your appliances and rebuilding them with less parts to them, Kate? You know that you'll manage to break them entirely, someday. You've got to let them be instead of just being your frugal self!"

"But then what would I give to those in the camps?" asks Kate, pushing her cropped-brown hair out of her face and continuing to reassemble the toaster. "They have nothing, Imelda. The least we can do for them is give them a few parts to help build things in their homes or to barter on the black market."

"The Capitol's still trying to move them all back into new suburbs!" argues Imelda, her dark eyes flashing in the dim light of the kitchen. "You can learn to let go, Kate, and spend more time interacting with people. Your future tributes need you to help them, not ours."

"The Capitol's about as focused on decreasing the tent cities as much as they are on moving you guys out of the house next door for illegally living in an unoccupied victor's house."

"Fair enough." Imelda blushes slightly and looks out of the window to her house, where their mother and father are busy cooking tonight's meal for their brother and the two girls. "Honestly, you work so hard just to forget the arena you were in. That's the only reason you put yourself through so much, is it not? There's no other reason why you would push this hard."

"Perhaps," is the distant reply from Kate, who starts to screw the bolt into the toaster faster and faster until she slams the screwdriver onto the kitchen counter and races upstairs, where Imelda can hear muffled sobs. Dammit, she's done it again - she's pushed poor Kate off of the edge. She'll wait downstairs in case she hears Kate calling for help, and then she's going back home.

But she knows she won't be able to crawl back into bed until the moon is out and Kate feels safe in the shadows.

 **District Four Victors:  
** **Craig Rivera, 31  
** **Magdalene Flanagan, 28**

Bastion sighs deeply as he enters the room, nodding to his fellow victors and running his callused hands through his thick brown hair. "The hurricane was worse than we thought. Most of the training yard is trashed, Mags. I'm not sure if we'll be recover even half of it in time for our trials."

Mags shakes her head and fingers her picture of her husband, Sebastian, who smiles back at her with creases in his eyes. She still doesn't know if he's made it back out of the storm, and they can all see it's taking quite a toll on her. "Panem bless those trapped out there."

Craig shudders and crosses over to Mags, where he gives her a quick and unsteady hug. "He'll be back, Mags. You won't lose him. I promise. He's not going to die."

Mags lets out a sharp sob and looks down to the ground, giving a stony gaze to the blue and red carpet under her. "I can't lose him. He's my rock… how do I help my children? How do I live? I'll have nothing if he leaves as well."

Bastion brings Mags to her feet, motioning Craig to follow the two. "We can go out to the sea and watch for him, if that'll help. You're going to be fine, Mags. Just like Craig said."

They take the long way to the beach, Bastion careful to avoid the route that passes Craig's house. Ever since Monique died in the Games along with Keelan, Craig hasn't entered his parent's house. He's doing better, though. He can takes walks alone and doesn't sleep with a knife anymore, and he's started to speak to his parents once more.

But if they ever push Talisa to volunteer for the Games, Craig will surely snap once more.

Mags gasps as she sees Sebastian walk up the slope from the beach, rushing to crush his small frame in her arms. "What happened? Did something go wrong? Are you okay?"

Sebastian rubs his head and looks back down at the beach, where peacekeepers are flocking around his little boat. "I'm fine, I'm fine. But something strange happened when we were coming back to shore. They said they… they weren't from Panem."

 **District Five Victors:  
** **Rosanna Gould, 38**

"Really? Is that what's happened in the other districts?" Rosanna shakes her head in pity and twists her finger around her brown locks of hair, looking in worry out of the window towards the rest of District Five. "You be safe, Falcon. I don't want you to fall to the bottle again. You've come so far, and one little terrorist can't make you go back. I talked to the bartender in your town, he knows not to give you drinks. You make sure you don't persuade him otherwise, alright?"

Her husband agrees at the other end of the line and hangs up on Rosanna, leaving her to sit back down in her chair and look around at Lark. Her little girl is still moving the blocks that Falcon had gotten her for her birthday around the floor, giggling in delight when they come crashing back down. "Did you see, Momma? Did you see?"

"I did, sweetheart." Rosanna scoops up Lark and looks out towards the city, a nervous wave rushes over her.

She doesn't know why, but she feels in her bones that something bad's about to happen.

 **District Six Victors:  
** **Douglas Tomlinson, 30  
** **Isa James, 20**

Isa yawns as she walks along the path to her fellow victor's house, the sun shining through what could have been a smoggy day if it weren't for a pleasant breeze this morning. City 3 is feeling rather warm today. Perhaps she'll take a trip into the city and visit a few friends, but she just wants to stand out here in the sunlight and breathe in the fresh air.

Ah, it feels good to be in this breeze.

A moan from Doug's house causes her to look to the brightly painted mansion in surprise, jogging to the door and opening it up to see Doug curled up on the floor. He's pointing wildly at one of the plants in the corner, babbling something about morphling and his arena.

She sighs and helps him to stand, shouldering the older man and directing him towards his bed. "Don't worry, I've got your sugar supply as usual. You know, running would help you to curb your addiction much more quickly than sugar and sweets. Exercise is always great to sweat out those toxins."

"I'm… not that strong..." gasps Doug, and Isa surveys him critically. His yellow-ish, paper thin skin seems that much more worn, and she can see his bloodshot eyes sag in relief when they reach the bedroom. He's right. Doug isn't strong enough to do much anymore, his years of morphling have dragged him down. Only purging himself of the stuff will save him from this living hell.

And that's what she has to do.

Even if she doesn't want to.

 **District Seven Victors:  
** **Maddie Fey, 37  
** **Joe Feller, 25**

Joe yawns as he takes up the ax once more, his muscles rippling as he continues to chop away at the firewood outside of his home. Maddie comes twirling towards him like a will-o-the-wisp, her eyes twinkling in delight as she flips through the air and lands back on her feet. "Nice to see you're still maintaining your form, just like I trained you."

"You as well," grunts Joe as he throws the kindling that he's chopped into the wheelbarrow that's right next to him. "I see your fancy stunts from your circus. Still great, Mads."

Maddie's face drops slightly as she remembers her former home, and Joe instantly regrets reminding her of the circus. "Well, I've been watching a few kids in the camps. They could do well in the Games, you know, if we trained them up to make good of themselves."

"Are you suggesting we train future tributes to fight?" asks Maddie, her eyes closing slightly in confusion. "You don't mean you want to make this a career district, do you?"

"No, no, no," replies Joe, stopping with a load of kindling in his arms. "I'm just saying when we make our tour of the district this winter, we could make sure that most of the reaping age kids and younger are able to use an ax, and maybe take a few kids off of the poorer families' hands. While we're at it, we can show those ones a few tricks of the trade in case anyone they know gets reaped."

"So… an apprenticeship of sorts."

"Exactly."

 **District Eight Victors:  
** **Tomas Spool, 23  
** **Hana Seweth, 17**

Hana sighs as Tomas spins the pencil absentmindedly once more, standing up and walking away from her fellow victor. "I'm bored."

"Welcome to our lives," Tomas replies as he continues to spin the pencil, yawning before taking it back up and scribbling down a few more words on the paper. "You should try writing. It helps a lot, you know."

"I don't want to write," Hana sighs, collapsing back into the couch. She can't explain it, but she wants to be free, to be moving, to do something other than just sit here in the living room with Tomas. She might not admit it, but there's a part of her that misses the arena. She wants to go back.

Even if it means her life.

Hana stands up with a purpose and walks towards the door, Tomas looking up in alarm. She turns back to her former mentor and flashes a small grin, looking out towards the city that surrounds the victor's village. "I'm going to go explore today."

"And be killed by a gang member or something?"

"You know I never leave without my knife," she laughs, grabbing the switchblade from her sock and flipping the knife. "I'll be fine."

"If you say so..." Tomas turns back to his paper, confident in the fact that Hana can take care of herself. She giggles and heads out of the door, skipping into the city with a huge smile on her face.

She's finally going to have some fun!

 **District Nine Victors:  
** **Falcon Jacobs, 36**

He jogs throughout the fields, trying to push his tired muscles further and further as he nears the victor's village. He might be older, but he can still run just as fast as he could as a teen. Granted, he has much more time to exercise now that he's a victor, but it's still impressive to him that he can move this fast. It feels like he's flying.

It feels like he doesn't need to drink.

He shakes his head at the thought and sprints the last half-mile, focusing only on his wife. Rosanna is still trapped in District Five for now, but he plans to have her apply to come to District Nine for a few weeks after the Games. She must feel like she's suffocating in those cities of Five, especially compared to the open prairies of Nine. It's a paradise here, with prairie flowers dotting the lane that he runs down towards the large houses at Victor's Village. Yes, it'll be good to have Rosanna return.

And then he can see Lark again.

He slows as he reaches his house, grabbing the towel that he left out on the fence and wiping it on his broad shoulders. His reddish-brown hair is soaking with sweat and his face is flushed, but he feels better than he ever does. It's wonderful to run. It's his only comfort at times like this, when there's nothing to do or see except the liquor bottles whispering to him in the woodpile two houses to the right that he had hidden just in case. He's been sober for three years, but he still remembers what those bottles look like.

And if it gets too much for him, he'll sneak out to the woodpile and satisfy his thirst.

A noise in the house causes him to look up in surprise and move towards his home slowly, calling out to the noise in a soft tone. "Who's there?"

No one answers, and he relaxes as he enters the house. No, he's just going crazy out here in the plains. Maybe he'll take a trip into town tomorrow. Yes, that'll be refreshing for his mind to see others again. It's so nice to talk to -

He stares down the barrel of a gun in shock and yells out, turning around to run from the masked man with a piece of white paper in his hand.

But the bullet hits him in the chest before he has a chance to scream.

 **District Ten Mentor:  
** **Ashton Markwick, 23**

She lies back in the hot tub and looks out to the prairies, the large glass window that she had installed in her house to in her own words, "have the best damn view in all of Ten," showcasing the prairie flowers that pop up every spring. It's all the colours of the rainbow swaying back and forth in the wind, shining in the light of the warm sun. They'll die in the cruel heat of the summer sun, but she can enjoy their beauty for now. At least until she can get back to the Capitol.

She wishes she was back in her home city, full of lights and excitement, but the Capitol had chosen her for this job, and you don't just say _no_ to the Capitol. So now she's here, with a reluctant grin on her face and knowledge that she hopes will save her tributes.

She hopes.

For one of the strongest districts, Ten hadn't managed to bring back any victors. There had been a few years where one had made it to the final four - Ashton still remembers Renee from the year before with her beautiful dark skin and hair, who had almost won the Games until she had been cut down by the boy from One with his sword - but none had come home to claim victory. The original mentor, a grouchy old man named Simeon, had hung himself four years before, leaving Ashton to take up this dreary position of mentor. She's shipped back out to Ten every spring, forced to watch the district grow in order to "get a feel for the place." Bah, as if she doesn't get enough of a feel for it when she stands in the town square and feels the dust bite into her face in the reapings.

She looks over at her towel and climbs out of the tub with a sigh, her bare skin and piercings shining in the light of the prairies. Maybe she can convince that girl at the end of town, Nallia, to spend the night. At least it'll be _exciting_.

 **District Eleven Victors:  
** **Sean O'Donnell, 30**

He looks towards the fields and watches his fellow citizens slog their way back to work, some donning protective gloves as they headed towards the fields, their only defense against the vicious tracker jackers that harboured in the fruit trees. His mother and father aren't among them, but then again, the O'Donnells had never worked in the fields for as long as they had lived in Eleven. Merchants didn't have to worry about feeding their families.

He remembers a look of pure shock on his mother's face when he was reaped, a look that he can still see when he shuts his eyes hard enough. He remembers seeing it in the arena, a dark, twisted maze that housed wolves he had only seen once. One look into their cold, dead eyes was enough to make him run through the maze and bump into the careers - who had been caught up in a previous battle with the girl from Seven and were just tired enough for Sean to kill.

He looks down at his pale, freckled skin, and bites his lip nervously. He'll be going back to the Capitol in a few months with his new pair of tributes, ready to deliver another set to their deaths. But he won't be able to connect with them, he never is. None of the teenagers that come with him to the Capitol trust the small merchant class of Eleven.

Perhaps that's why they've never come back.

He pushes against the curtains and yanks them closed, walking around his house and shutting all of the curtains. Soon enough, the house is enshrouded in dark shadows.

Sean smiles and walks into the kitchen, deftly walking around the counters hidden by the darkness and grabs a knife from the counter. He knows that the wolves will come back to attack tonight, they always do before disappearing altogether the next day. He'll be ready tonight, holding his knife when they come back.

It's funny, he never exactly remembers falling asleep while he waits for them to come, but he always finds himself waking up.

 **District Twelve Victors:  
** **Ashira Marlstone, 32**

She listens to the mockingjays chirp in the early morning dawn, smiling as she hears one bold mockingjay sing a threatening note to another. She's been listening to the sounds around her so often now, she feels like she's part of it herself. She's a part of District Twelve, able to move freely among both the Seam and the merchants to where she pleases. After all, she's the only victor from Twelve.

And still without a successor.

She sighs at the thought and hops back into her bed, enveloping herself in the silky blankets and the mounds of pillows she has scattered around the bed. On days like these, she likes to stay in the house and read until she's forgotten everything but the sound of the forests around her. But today's not a day she can do that. She has to go to the mayor's house for some fancy dinner with her own family. It's apparently the mayor's birthday or something, but she's excited to see her parents once more. Ever since Aline and Tovard died, her parents have been alone in their large house that she had lent money for. Yes, she'll go visit them now before tonight. It's only fair.

She steps out of the door and looks down the lane, a small grin on her face as she clutches the light gold nightgown around her body. It's a beautiful day to be outside.

She hurries down the lane and steps into the house of Hedvig and Harmin Marlstone, calling for her parents in a lilting tone. "Mother? Father?"

Mother shouts a greeting from the backyard, while her father call from upstairs where he's in the shower. Ashira smiles to herself and sits down at the counter, fingering the peeler left on the countertop by her mother. It's the same one that they've kept since she was a girl, deemed valuable by her grandmother when the family first bought it. It's one of the only things they have left from her days before the Games; the amount of money received by Ashira allowed her family to replace the many things in the home that were lacking.

She hears a knock at the door and goes to answer it, but then stops. Ever since she's been in the arena, she's always sensed uneasy whenever she was near anything dangerous - something likely caused by using her fight and flight instincts in the arena.

She feels it now.

She takes one step forward, then backs away towards the backyard. It's a good thing that she's done so.

A few more steps closer, and her head would have been hit by the door exploding into a million pieces.

 **A/N: Only 80s kids will remember my original victors from Impossible and Distorted.**

 **But honestly, the victors weren't the reason you guys wanted this chapter. We finally have our tribute list, and that's exciting for all of you, especially me! I'm very excited to announce who has made it into Hiraeth, with 40 (!) submissions, as well as 11 escort submissions! You guys are awesome :D**

 **District One Male:** Duchess Curoscate, 16 By xxxbookwormmockingjayxxx  
 **District One Female:** Tourmaline de Metz, 18 By incandescent serendipity  
 **District Two Male:** Aeson Humpford, 18 By 66samvr  
 **District Two Female:** Enyo Bedford, 18 By paperairline  
 **District Three Male:** Antimony Sinebad, 15 By goldie031  
 **District Three Female:** Electra Mancuso, 16 By Sparky She-Demon  
 **District Four Male:** Fraser Killick, 18 By santiago poncini20  
 **District Four Female:** Shelby Doran, 17 By RoadieMcRoadface  
 **District Five Male:** Sasha Sone, 17 By Taetum  
 **District Five Female:** Colleen Tosse, 17 By Platrium  
 **District Six Male:** Jackson Kennedy, 18 By Greywolf44  
 **District Six Female:** Armani DeCormick, 14 By EllaRoseEverdeen  
 **District Seven Male:** Timber Sycamore, 14 By NyanToDaMax145  
 **District Seven Female:** Magnolia Rosa-Tran, 18 By AmericanPI  
 **District Eight Male:** Tristan Locke, 18 By Manectric11  
 **District Eight Female:** Desdemona Steen, 15 By later glader  
 **District Nine Male:** Ezra Winfield, 13 By OfficialBengy  
 **District Nine Female:** Emma von Habsburg, 17 By MRKenn  
 **District Ten Male:** Callous Lecket, 17 By cornellfann  
 **District Ten Female:** Ceres Hemlock, 17 By mellissa rose  
 **District Eleven Male:** Luke Atkinson, 17 By mysticalpineforest  
 **District Eleven Female:** Aloie Church, 12 By mysticalpineforest  
 **District Twelve Male:** Hex Hertz, 16 By SilverflowerXRavenpaw  
 **District Twelve Female:** Arisa Fetch, 14 By Galaxy842

 **Escorts for Hiraeth**

District One: Tito Fuego, 27 ~ RoadieMcRoadface  
District Two: Pirate Pyrette Parroutte Parrot Parithe Paiawright Pyrite 31 ~ Platrium  
District Three: Freya Cartier, 22 ~ Sparky She-Demon  
District Four: Middy Trotar, 44 ~ santiago . poncini20  
District Five: Janus Jerina, 24 ~ Galaxy842  
District Six: Dashiell Remore, 68 ~ EllaRoseEverdeen  
District Seven: Kahleel Royce, 22 ~ Sparky She-Demon  
District Eight: Tomson Kester, 35 ~ TheAmazingJAJ  
District Nine: Jo Lycoris, 25 ~ RoadieMcRoadface  
District Ten: Ottava Tenor, 21 ~ 66samvr  
District Eleven: Dormantine Lander, 18 ~ santiago . poncini20  
District Twelve: Adelaide Dul Le Luece, 19 ~ yyvonnee

 **And those are the official slots! I'm sorry if you didn't make it in, I worked really hard to get the best subs in each slot and unfortunately there were so many great subs, I had to let a lot go :((( (If you want the basic info or even the whole form from your tribute if they weren't accepted I'll be more than happy to get it to you sometime soon :D) but I'm really excited for this batch of tributes, and I hope that the twenty three of you who got tributes in (as well as those with escorts) are excited to see your babies!**

 **Also, the LOVELY AND TALENTED mysticalpineforest was gracious enough to make me a blog for Hiraeth :D check it out here, and leave a blog review if you feel like it! I promise that it's worth it ;) Also, go check out and sub to her latest SYOT, Running. It's going to be amazing - quite literally, with the Amazing Race twist in there ;)  
**

 **Here's the link, and remove the spaces :D hiraeth - hg . weebly . com**

 **I'm certainly excited to get this story underway, and I'll see you soon with the first prologue. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	4. District One Intros: Gone Girl

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

She sits in the dining carriage and wipes her mouth primly, the lace-patterned napkin wiping away the sauce around her mouth. She still doesn't enjoy sitting here among the finest the Capitol has to offer: the twelve escorts for this year's Games, game makers, and business tycoons all rub shoulders in this train. But Carameuse isn't one of them. She's always found comfort in hiding in the lower parts of the Capitol, meeting the people who are not rich beyond their wildest dreams. Money does strange things to people; she's seen contract killings time and time again in her career. She prefers the simpler ones, the ones who are honest enough to trust one another and work for their living. They aren't motivated by money, something that the President had suggested as a motive.

But her mastermind isn't motivated by just a few sesterces. It's something more… something malevolent.

An escort stumbles along the aisle with a woman by his side, drunk out of his mind and another glass of champagne in his hand. The girl is clad in a red dress that clings tight to her sides, her dark black hair spilling down her back in a neatly arranged frame of curls but the escort has the more curious attire, sporting bright green hair and a strange mustache that clamours for attention on his tattooed face. The escorts are an interesting group this year, but she's already ruled them all out for the killings. None of them seem to have the mental capacity to organize a series of murders, and Fiammetta had almost ruled out them all. No, they're not of Carameuse's concern, but she may be able to use them for gossip. Escorts always seem to have more knowledge than they should, and finding one with a loose enough tongue would prove beneficial to the case.

The escort trips and falls on his own two feet, and the girl stifles a giggle before moving away from her fallen companion. An avox moves over to the man and helps him to get up, and Carameuse quickly moves out of her seat and towards the avox. Taking the arm of the inebriated escort, she flashes a serious look to the avox and points to the sleeping compartments. "He's my friend. Would you be able to help me get him back to his room?"

The avox nods and Carameuse notes his large, strong shoulder, and the calluses that cover his hands. She can see strands of grey in his dark brown hair, and his eyes are a bright blue, untainted by his avoxing. He's likely from Ten, what with his hands showing a lifetime of work and his body type. Perhaps one of the ranch owners who had crossed the Capitol. One never does quite know how avoxes are chosen, but it's rumoured to be from rebellion or downright contempt towards the Capitol. She suspects the latter for this one.

As they walk into the first sleeper carriage, Carameuse deftly reaches within the escort's pocket and takes his room card. _246_ , it reads, and Carameuse smiles. "So you're in the second carriage..."

The avox shoots Carameuse a puzzled gaze before continuing to move towards the next carriage, holding the door open for Carameuse to squeeze through. Carameuse smiles and moves the man towards Room 246, opening the door with the room card and taking him inside. "Thank you for your help, sir."

The avox makes a gesture with his hands when he believes that he is out of Carameuse's sight, and she calls to the tall man. "I know I'm not a friend of the escort, but you don't have to call me a thief! My word, the world is suspicious of everyone who isn't wearing a dress."

The avox gasps and turns back around, his eyes narrowing in confusion as he signs to Carameuse. She spells out the words silently, formulating her reply in seconds. "Yes, I did it to get close to the man, but I'm not stealing from him. And I learned avox-speech from one of your own. A man named Vincent. Quite the charmer, although too smart for his own good."

The avox signs once more quickly, Carameuse struggling to catch all of his signs. "You want to know my name? Carameuse Heloise. And what is yours?"

The man signs the word for heart and Carameuse frowns, looking up into the avox's eyes. "Heart? Is that your name? The organ?"

The man gives a guttural sigh and signs once more, careful to trace an E in the air before crossing it out. Carameuse nods and pushes back her hair, smiling gently at the man. "So you are Hart. Well, Hart, it's wonderful to meet you. I trust that if you have any concerns about fellow passengers or luggage, you will come to visit me in room 307. Can I trust you?"

The man nods, shaking Carameuse's hand before hurrying towards his own carriage. Carameuse smiles, sitting down in a seat facing the window and watching the scenery change from plains to tall, high mountains in minutes.

She's found her first ally.

 **Tourmaline de Metz, 18  
** **District One Female**

The setting sun outside of the large training centre illuminates the room in an eerie glow, causing Tourmaline and Sayana to be engulfed in an orange hue of light. Sayana gasps in delight and turns to Tourmaline, her eyes alight in the dusk. "Beautiful, isn't it? It's a time of day where you can feel like magic is real, you know?"

"I don't… but yet I do," Tourmaline whispers back, the large glass window the girls are sitting next to filling with the last glorious rays of sunlight before it vanishes altogether, leaving a dark pink sky and the moon, a pale crescent in the sky that grows brighter by the minute, to hang over the academy. "I think we should get going. After all, the One Games are coming soon."

"And you'll get a spot in it, as usual," Sayana sighs, inspecting her reddish-blonde braid for any stray hairs while trying to give a sulky look to Tourmaline simultaneously. It fails, and the girls dissolve into laughter before they wipe away their tears of mirth.

"Come on, I'll walk home with you. Maybe we'll see Armani!"

"You can't tell me this time that he doesn't have a crush on you, Tourmaline."

"He's my best friend, Sayana. We're not mashing our face together under the bleachers like you did with every poor boy who fell into your clutches the past few years."

Sayana snorts in laughter, and points merrily over to an oak tree dotting the side of the road that they've stepped out on. The dark, grey pavement is slick and unmarred, just how the Capitol likes it to be seen. It's only like this around the Academy and the Square. Everywhere else in One doesn't have to be shown on TV. "Did I ever tell you what I did with Brandon up there? Ha, he was a funny guy, but too slow for my tastes. He couldn't catch up with me!"

"I don't think anyone can, Sayana."

"You're right, as usual," Sayana sighs, pushing away the unruly braid before spotting two boys walking along the side of the road, up towards the academy. "Do you _see_ the size of that one guy? And the other guy's hair? Stay right here. I'll only be a minute."

Tourmaline shakes her head and continues to walk, knowing that Sayana won't be back to her side until she's gotten at least one, if not both, of the poor men under her thumb. After all, Tourmaline has to get home soon to help with the kids. After all, Mother can't keep them in perfect order for this long, especially on a such a tempting night like this.

She breaks into a jog and heads through the city, looking at the flashy, ruby, garnet, and diamond adorned signs of the district. It's beautiful, but everyone knows that it's just to cover up the fact that One is poorer than most people expect. When the market plunged two years ago and the Capitol moved more towards Eight for fashionable items, even Tourmaline felt the hand of poverty grasp at her sleeve. After all, Dad didn't lose his jewelry shop for _nothing._

She hears footsteps behind her and turns back, expecting Sayana to come running for comfort after they both declined her - after all, the two did seem pretty clingy towards one another, although they looked a lot like brothers, and did she spot a ring on the finger of the smaller one, the one with brown hair and a tiny scar just above his neckline? - but it's her sister, Carnelian, who races towards Tourmaline. "Tourmaline! Tourmaline! I thought I'd _never_ be finished with training today!"

Tourmaline smiles fondly and ruffles Carnelian's hair, messy blonde curls forming a ring around her little sister's face. "You'll learn to cope with the long waiting times, Carnelian. After all, I managed to!"

"After you turned seventeen," Carnelian teases, poking Tourmaline in the ribs and scampering away before Tourmaline runs after her with a mighty roar.

"Don't hurt me! I forgot about your bruised ribs!" Carnelian squeals as Tourmaline swoops her up, trying to hold on to the small, squirming girl. "Please don't hurt me!"

Tourmaline gives an exaggerated sigh and lets Carnelian go, the younger girl scampering away to a safe distance before she hurls her next insult. "Armani told me that he wants a smooch tomorrow!"

Tourmaline yells at her sister and chases her all the way to the house, dodging the door as Carnelian flies in and shuts it in Tourmaline's face. "He's not my boyfriend! We're friends! Best friends! Why does no one understand that?"

Tourmaline pushes on the door and feels that Carnelian has already vanished, leaving the door unlocked. Tourmaline opens the door and walks inside to a cacophony of screams, her mother wiping her brow as she greets Tourmaline wearily. "The Ferrans decided to visit today."

Tourmaline stops dead in her tracks, remembering the last time the Ferrans had visited the tiny household of the de Metzes. Carnelian had somehow ended up on the roof with a Ferran, and her other little siblings had formed a pact to destroy the other four Ferrans. If only Mother wasn't related to Mr. Ferran, then the de Metzes would never have to endure this storm of small children. For a minute, she toys with the idea of stepping back out of the door and looking for Sayana. It would certainly be more peaceful…

She straightens her head and grabs a hair tie from a countertop, tying her long, waist-length hair up into a bun that the Ferrans won't be able to grab. "I'll calm them down for you, and you can spend time with their parents. Alright?"

Rhoda de Metz nods with satisfaction, letting Tourmaline hurry into the dining room and herd all of the children out in a few minutes. It takes a scratch on her arm and a broken plate to do so, but as she gets them to start playing a card game that they can all enjoy, even little Felicity Ferran, who's still only four, she can let herself relax.

It's good to be in charge.

 **Duchess Coruscate, 16  
** **District One Male**

It's good not to be in charge.

She adjusts the wig that she had tucked under her helmet for the One Games this week - several instructors had told her not to, that it would only be a hassle, but she _needed_ to be Duchess for the Games - the blonde curls spilling out from the dark-grey and clunky helmet that was _supposed_ to protect her from the fake weapons they're using for these Games. She doesn't trust them, of course. It's good not to trust things. Then, they'll never let her down.

She watches the leader of this ragtag alliance lean back and shut his eyes, unaware of the fact that she's annoyed with how he's led them through the last section of this arena. The position of leader in the alliances that inevitably pop up in these Games is notorious for being backstabbed, the others angry with their decisions. That's why she sat back and let the boys take charge of this group for the last few sections. She won't be blamed for anything that goes wrong.

A boy with bright green eyes and an uneasy frown points towards the island in the middle of this lake they're rowing through, the fake version of the cornucopia - although it could be even greater than the normal version if the victors agreed to coat it with real gold - rising out of the mists. "You three ready? We storm the island and see if we can find whoever's left. There's only eleven after the mountain section, correct?"

A girl with dark hair and serious eyes shakes her head, pointing up to the sky as a gunshot sounds in the 'arena'. "No, thirteen are left with that gunshot. The first three sections are always the easiest, and we've only got two more to go after this one's finished. You aren't paying attention?"

"I don't think anyone of us could keep track of the things you have in your mind, especially that Adumbis right next to me. You have an appointment after today, Adumbis? You better opt out of the Games before you become too bruised for your _clients_."

"It's Duchess to you, not Adonis," she fires back, winking at their leader, who had spoken up from his position at the back of the boat, and partially unzipping her uniform. She allows him to catch a glimpse of her tanned, unblemished skin before zipping it right back up, wagging her finger in mock anger. "Remember that when you come stumbling into my show and want to see a bit more than just this. I like to count my sesterces before I begin my show, by the way."

The girl snorts with laughter and punches the boy playfully, while the others blush and look away from Duchess. She sits back down with a haughty smile, waiting for the boat to reach the island before jumping out. The girl follows her, and they fall into line as the boys take the lead. Duchess leans into the girl and speaks softly, making sure that only the girl can hear. "I'm thinking that we get rid of these scumbags as soon as we get into the top ten. Deal?"

"Deal." The girl nods her head firmly and tucks her hair up into a bun, sliding the helmet that she had carried by her side onto her head before picking up her fallen spear. "Tourmaline, by the way. You're Duchess?"

"The only!" Duchess winks before moving ahead, fingering the whip in her hands as the boys step into the cornucopia. First, she hears nothing, but then there's a scream and three other trainees rush out with wild eyes and flecks of red paint on their uniforms. They've definitely eliminated a few other trainees, the only thing that would stain that dark of a red on the outfit would be from the delicate bags that dot the uniforms wherever the victors have deemed to be vital to survival. She fingers the one surrounding her neck before throwing herself into the melee, slashing the whip and leaving bruises on a girl's leg before she slices the neck bag with a well-placed slash. The girl shouts in disappointment and throws herself into the lake, letting her scythe drift away as she goes back to the previous section. The gunshot sounds as she continues to swim, and Duchess allows herself to smile. It's good to have a kill.

Her allies finish off the two other girls and shout in delight, unaware of the fact that Duchess and Tourmaline are right behind them with wicked grins. Tourmaline thrusts her spear forward and Duchess cracks her whip, and the paint splatters on the ground like fresh blood.  
The girls run before the boys have a chance to react, pushing past the cornucopia to the next section. It's technically illegal, but trainees have been known to take revenge on their killers after they're eliminated. Neither of them wants the same fate.

They run until they reach a gate on the other side of the island, and the two pause and gasp for breath before starting to open it. Tourmaline grins at Duchess as they step into a desert climate, the heat hitting their faces like a sharp knife. "Wanna keep working together? It's good to have an ally here."

Duchess holds up her hand to silence the dark-haired girl, then grabs Tourmaline's spear and hurls it at a figure in the background. A flash of red proves that her aim was true, and Duchess' target curses angrily before stomping away to the gates. "Only five to kill before we win."

A gunshot echoes through the arena, and Tourmaline grins naughtily. "You mean four. We're going to the Hunger Games!"

Duchess smiles back, and they run through the desert section before sliding to a stop, two gates rising out of the sand that the instructors must have gathered from Four or Ten. The words _Male_ and _Female_ hang over each one on bright signs and Duchess turns to the male gate. "I'd come with you, girl, but I'd like to show these boys a thing or two. You win for me, 'kay?"

"For sure." Tourmaline suddenly turns serious, her face hardening as she steps through the gates. Then she pauses, fishing for something in her pocket and tossing it to Duchess. "Knives are easier for breaking the paint bags."

"Thank you!" Duchess starts to reply, but Tourmaline's already vanished into the gates. A gunshot follows suit and Duchess shakes her head, stepping through the male gate and walking down the corridor. Her future district partner's a funny one, but she can be beaten. Duchess is confident. She won't let anyone take the victory from her.

And she doesn't give the two boys who come in through the gate and try to take her spot a chance.

 **A/N: Our first intros! Hurrah!**

 **Before you yell at me for taking so long, it has not been for nothing. I've finished the District Two and Four intros already, and am working on the subplot sections and District Three as we speak. I won't put out District Two until I get Three done, so that I have two districts in my pocket :3 I don't want to leave you hanging if I go into a writing slump!**

 **Anyways, thoughts on the tributes? Any interesting parts? What did you think of Carameuse and Hart meeting? The subplot will be following us through the whole story, set about two months before the Games, so it's going to be rather exciting to do. I hope you'll like it!**

 **Also, if you want to join some chaos and have fun on discord, pm me and I'll shoot you an invite to the Hiraeth-Verse server. I hope to get a few more of you in there to get hyped about the chaos this story will be!**

 **Anyways, that's all I got for now. See you with District Two, which, if I write Three quickly, will be out soon. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	5. District Two Intros: Murder Is Easy

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

The train rocks in the night, waking Carameuse from her sleep as it rounds a bend and rackets towards the next stop in District Twelve. She had thought that they would start in District One and then take the long way around Panem, but Capitolites had informed her that the President wanted District Twelve to be visited first. The escorts would hop out for the day each time they stopped in a district, filling out paperwork and receiving their instructions for the reapings. They usually took a smaller, private train that consisted of themselves alone, but this year's celebration had proven to be too large for them to ignore. So this morning they would all stop in District Twelve, visiting the small town before they headed towards District Eleven.

She uncreases her nightgown and fumbles in the dark for her slippers, standing up and walking unsteadily towards the door. By now, she's gotten used to the train and the way it rocked from side to side, but it was still quite the jolt to wake up and find that she's inside of a moving carriage. Her brain soon lets her catch her balance and open the door, Carameuse grabbing her trenchcoat and folding the fabric belt around her waist before she silently closes the door.

It's time to have some fun.

She laughs as the train dives under a river, the tunnel swallowing her up in darkness. But she still has the lights of the hallway, so she quickly hurries towards the dining car. She'll be sure to find a few interesting tidbits of information there.

She reaches the car with speed, pausing to survey her surrounding. A few passed out men and women are slumped on the tables of the car, spilled glasses of alcohol seeping onto the floor and one avox trying to clean up the stains of their drinks. She sees the bartender tiredly rub her eyes before looking up at Carameuse, her tired look shifting into a practiced smile. "What do you want?"

"I'd like some information as requested by President Ember." Carameuse takes out a sheet of paper with the official signature of the president, along with a few sentences of information that makes the bartender widen her eyes in fear and curiosity. She slips the note into her pocket and crosses her large arms over one another, her face unreadable.

"Who would you like to know more about? I've been watching all of these drunkards tonight, none of them is the criminal you're looking for."

Carameuse sees one of the politicians that she was going to interview roll off of her table and out of her chair, her mouth dripping a long string of saliva onto the red-carpeted floor. "Point taken. Well, there are four others that I'm watching. Lennon Desmos, Ashton Markwick, Selena Snow, and Mark Anagnos."

The bartender scoffs, tattoos visible on her right arm and leading into her covered shoulders. "Those four… they've all wormed their way into their rooms with drinks and a few partners to make the night a bit more enjoyable. No, not the Selena one. She seemed quiet. She didn't drink, but she was with a younger man. Quite a fine one, although a little young for her."

"Do any of them seem suspicious to you? Or are there any other people on this train that I should pay attention. After all, we're only waiting for the President to join us. Anyone who wants to kill her is already here."

"Have you thought about the escorts? They're quite the group. I believe that you should get into their circles, figure out which of them support whom. Escorts always have information - well, except for the ones who get too drunk on this train to see anything. I'd also think that the launderers would be good to talk to. They aren't avoxes, the job isn't tailored for that group. They see a lot, and I know a few who are observant enough to supply you with information."

"Thank you for your help." Carameuse turns away from the woman and back towards her room, leaving a few sesterces on the bar table for compensation. From the sound of money clinking into a leather purse behind her, the bartender is satisfied as well.

She stumbles into her room and dreams of nothing, waking up to the grinding of the train's brakes and bright, fresh sunlight.

They've made it to District Twelve.

 **Aeson Humpford, 18  
** **District Two Male**

He stretches his arms and flashes a cocky grin at some of the girls gathered on the side of the arena, prepared to tackle the smaller boy on the other side of the ring. He's always been cautioned to go slow during this portion of training; after all, he's still got a few weeks before the trials begin and he's been sponsored this year by _Clay Wolfe_ , the first victor of Two himself, but he can't help but pour all of his energy into this fight.

After all, he can't slack off while he's got eyes upon him. He's got to keep up his reputation here as a fighter, after all. Even if he does something off that's small, it may cause Clay to change his sponsorship. After all, it hasn't been finalized yet, and Aeson has to watch himself in the academy.

Panem, he can't wait for the Trials!

The retired peacekeeper-turned-instructor blows the whistle and the boys rush at one another, Aeson's opponent dodging Aeson and leaping towards the side of the ring. But Aeson's already anticipated this movement, catching the boy in his thick arms and tossing him to the ground. The boy coughs out his mouthguard and jumps back up, a trickle of blood from biting his tongue running down his chin. The blood trickles onto the uniform and leaves a stain that will have to be washed out later. But the boy doesn't notice the stain. It's too late for him to.

Aeson doesn't let the boy have a chance to recover, sending a roundhouse punch into the side of the boy's head before pinning him down on the ground, counting in his head the seconds that he has the boy there until his opponent goes limp and the instructor blows the whistle. "Match to Humpford!"

Aeson grins and flexes his arms as sweat drips down his face, the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders on his grey and red uniform. The red on his uniform - colours mark placements in the academy, your year, and your status - shows that he's one of the twelve boys battling for the coveted spot of volunteer in the 22nd Hunger Games, and he certainly draws attention whenever he wears the colour. Other students open their eyes in surprise when they see him walk through the halls of the newly-built academy, and he often waves to the girls in the same colour: after all, they may just be his district partner in the Games. It's always quite uncomfortable to see one of the boys with red on. He usually passes them by with a sideways glance and with blushing cheeks - although his dark black skin makes it impossible for anyone to see his embarrassment - doing his best to seem as if he isn't looking at his competition.

A younger student, likely around the age of twelve and newly recruited - Aeson can tell by the recently shaved head and the green shirt - rushes up to his side as Aeson walks through the halls and hands him a message, shaking his hand firmly before turning around. "I hope that you can give me luck for my exams next month, Mr. Humpford."

Aeson laughs and pats the boy on the head, opening up the note. "Don't worry, you'll do just fine. You better keep looking for the rest of the boys to get all of that luck you desire. Has any of your classmates done so yet?"

"Only two, but Frank and Clay like to sneak off during our lunch hour. It's no wonder they've found all of you."

Aeson shakes his head in amusement, waving goodbye to the boy as he starts to read the note. He doesn't know who Frank and Clay are - the names Clay, Caleb and Natalia have rapidly grown in popularity in District Two after their victories - but they sound like they'd be like Aeson himself when he first came to the academy: feisty, cocky kids who are willing to do what it takes to get the job done. Maybe he was too much of a nuisance, but he remembers those times fondly.

Honestly, he'd like to see more of those types of kids in the academy. They'd do well here.

The note tells that he has a phone call today - curious that he has one today, cadets only have phone privileges once a month and he's had his three weeks ago - but he shrugs it off and starts to jog through the hallways. He might as well get there before his family gets angry.

He reaches the office and nods to Caleb, whose blind eyes had turned towards the door when Aeson had entered, before moving into the smaller phone room. Sure enough, his name is chalked up on the board for a call in five minutes.

Perfect.

He sits down and fiddles with his thumbs, looking up at the phone before it gives out a single ring. Aeson lunges for the phone and picks it up before it lets out a second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Aeson! It's great to speak with you again!" his mother gushes, her sugar-sweet tone flavouring the words like dusted sugar on the top of the raisin bread he's served at breakfast every morning. "We're calling to tell you that your results from the doctor have come in."

Aeson stiffens, locking his knees together as he feels the bottle of pills in his shirt pocket. "Yes?"

"Well, you've definitely got the urinary infection again. If you keep taking those pills, you'll be able to keep away the pain for most of the time, although you'll have to take 'em for a few weeks before you'll feel normal once more. But your father and I have been discussing it with one another, and we think it's best that you drop out of the program. You need to take care of yourself, Aeson, and running around with pain in your bladder won't help you at all in the trials, let alone the Games. There's permanent damage that you can cause, Aeson!"

"I'm not quitting," he whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse and dry. "Not when I'm so close. I'm so close to being chosen, Ma, I've got the trials in three days and the Games are only in two weeks."

"I just hope what happens is the best for you, Aeson. You know, I pray to Panem and the gods for you every night."

"I appreciate your prayers from those gods of stone of yours, but I'm relying on luck, Ma. I'll be fighting for you and Pa. That's all I can do."

"Then it's settled, then." The phone hangs up with a click and Aeson looks down at the receiver with a cold chill running through his veins.

He's not sure if he's made the best or worst decision of his life.

 **Enyo Bedford, 18  
** **District Two Female**

She arranges the objects on the small, brown oak desk once more, grunting in frustration as a pen falls off of the surface and onto the floor. She picks up the green pen and places it next to the rest of the pens, all of the writing tools neatly lining up on her desk. And then she coughs, a thick, heavy cloud of smoke or smog entering the room and clogging her throat. "Augh! Stop… fire! Stop it!"

Her roommate looks up from her small desk, where she waves a small bowl of… burning dust? The smoke continues to pour up towards the ceiling in small waves, each cloud forming a tiny ring. If she wasn't angry with her roommate, she would be pleased with the patterns. They're beautiful.

But she's not pleased with her roommate.

"What you doing? Stop now! Stop the smoke!" she yells at her roommate, the girl seemingly in a trance. If she had more time and patience, she would attempt to arrange her sentences better, but her mind doesn't want to do that.

Sometimes, she doesn't think it _can_ do it.

The girl continues to murmur softly in a low voice, her words like music that flows up into the room with the smoke and sticks in Enyo's head. "Praise be, praise be to the gods, to Panem, who gives us life, who came down from the heavens and shared his bowl with us mere mortals so that we could live! Praise be, praise be to the gods, to Pa -"

Enyo knocks over the bowl of dust and it hits the rug beneath the girl, smoldering before a lick of fire springs to life. Enyo _should_ move, she should help put it out, but she can't stop from gaping at the flame and reaching out towards it. So… beautiful…

The girl shrieks and stomps it out with her foot, glaring at Enyo and waving her hands in the air. Her harsh tongue spits words at Enyo, and she puts her hands over her head in an attempt to keep the poisonous words away from her. "You _heathen_ , you girl cursed by the gods to speak nonsense for all time… I hate you! Get out of this room, before the incense dooms us both. Couldn't you see the tendrils of smoke pointing to death, to you? Death is coming for you, _Enyo_. You can't stop it. No one can."

Enyo stumbles over herself to get away from the girl, running out of the door and slamming it. She breathes heavily, crossing her arms over herself and moving from side to side. Oh, the incense was horrid. Was that what the girl called it? Incense? What a funny word, she thinks. Rather like some of the food they're served every night, like lasagna. Eugh. At least she knows when to avoid that particular dish, on Wednesday nights like clockwork. She likes order. It's simpler that way.

But that roommate of hers, if she can even call her that, is anything _but_ orderly.

As thoughts slip in and out of her head, she tries to catch one and ends up with the realization that she has training now. She likes training, it's rather simple. Just give it all she has, and the trainers smile and sometimes throw her a caramel if she does well. Caramels are rare here, only for cadets who prove themselves in battle. It's not like at home, where her mother and father would give her anything she wanted.

But she'll never go back, not for all the caramels in the world.

She shakes her head free of the dark thought and runs through the halls, dodging the instructor who shakes his fist at her and shakes his head. She knows they're supposed to walk, but her feet are begging to run through the halls, to _fly_ like birds in the bright blue sky above the Academy. She's not slowing down.

She screeches to a halt - much like how that tribute did last week when he slipped in the mud outside and just caught himself from falling in and doing an extra load of laundry - and turns as she reaches the doors, walking confidently inside and clapping her hands in delight to see the usual instructor there. It's good to see the woman. Enyo knows how to fight her well.

The instructor nods to Enyo and waits for her to pick a weapon, standing politely to the side as she waits for the inevitable. They both know that Enyo will take the spear with a blue tip like the mountain flowers she loves to collect, and they both know that Enyo will take a few seconds to make sure her shoes are tied - they're slippers - and then laugh before diving into battle.

Enyo hovers over the weapons and finally chooses her spear, twirling it in the air with delight. She throws it up in the air and catches it with ease, then checks her shoes before remembering they're slippers. Then she turns to see two of the victors watching her, waving to them and holding a cheery grin on her face, one that most may describe as a little off. But she's been practicing it. She knows her smile is good enough for the Capitol, it's good enough to not attract attention whenever she gets excited and cause those mean girls to pull her hair and spit on her and call her names…

She yells at the thoughts to go away, then laughs and tosses herself towards the instructor. It's just another normal day, a good day. She loves this order, this perfect positioning of battle and chaos with skill and strategy.

The victors watch Enyo toss herself around the room with glee, combatting the instructor with ease and knocking the older woman to her knees. The younger victor turns to the other, her face aglow with surprise. "You're right, Clay. She _is_ the one."

"Wait until you see her in the trials, Natalia," Clay says with pride, watching the girl fight - no, it's too elegant to be called fighting. She dances through the room with her spear and laughs again, the merry sound ringing in his ears. "I've got high hopes for her."

"Indeed."

 **A/N: Another one! I'm enjoying these tributes so far, and I've finished the D3 and D4 chapters already, so expect another one out soon. Ooh, we're starting to move faster! :3**

 **Quick reminder that if you want to join my discord server, pm me about it and I'll send you the link ;)**

 **Aeson and Enyo are cool, and I'm glad they're repping D2. To clarify, Enyo is autistic, so that may help clear up things a little. I took a little creative liberty and made her roommate the worshipping girl, so hopefully that added a little spice (or at least smoke) to the chapter. Anyways, I hope to see some of you guys review this chapter! It's amazing that we've already passed fifty reviews (seriously tho I'm so surprised) and I can't wait to share my story with you. So get ready for District Three, hopefully in the next week, and I'll see you then! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	6. District Three Intros: Age of Innocence

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

She walks out of the train and into the light of District Twelve, watching several small children, their clothes torn and their dirty feet bare, gather by the fences to see the train pull away. The track is rugged and overgrown with vines and plants - it must not be used often - and she realizes that seeing the train, let alone one this magnificent, is a special treat for the children. If it wasn't for their arrival, it would have been another ordinary day in District Twelve.

A family of four brushes past Carameuse on their way to the Hall of Justice, eager to take the little tour of the district: sanctioned and censored, of course, most Capitolites are never allowed to see the worst sides of the districts. Carameuse smiles gently and pats the head of a particularly vivacious little girl, her red curls seeming to stand on end all of her head. "You have wonderful children."

The mother blushes and thanks Carameuse, scooping up a young boy and cradling him in her arms. "We're expecting another in six months. To celebrate, we're taking little Minnie and Haslow on this tour. I hope you have a good time, miss!"

"You as well," Carameuse replies, then walks slowly through the crowd of eager Capitolites, all vying to be first in line for the Hall of Justice. There, they'll see the obituaries of tributes long past and watch footage of Ashira's Games, Twelve's only victor. Carameuse remembers those Games. The girl was quiet, but determined. The other boy barely stood a chance in the finale.

She walks down a dusty road, lined with coal dust that tries to clog her throat, and moves steadily towards the victor's village. Victors haven't been invited to the train celebration, but they're just as vital as the escorts to Carameuse. They have information that she can use.

She walks towards the one house that looks like it's been truly lived in, walking up the small path and knocking on the door. A rapid shuffling comes from inside and Carameuse smiles as an older woman, her cheeks red and a green dress with mud stains at the hem clinging to her small shoulders opens the door. "Hello! And you are?"

"Carameuse Heloise, agent of President Ember. I wish to speak with your daughter, please."

"Oh, Ashira's recovering upstairs. I believe that the Capitol nurses said she could meet others for around an hour everyday. The poor dear, the explosion riddled her back. Would you like to wait for her by helping me weed the garden? It's my day off, so I'm trying to get a start on it."

"I'd really rather stay in here -" Carameuse tries to stammer out, but the woman is insistent. She pulls Carameuse through the house and into the backyard, handing her a small shovel and pointing to a side of the garden.

"Dig."

 **.oOo.**

Carameuse silently ascends the stairs, Hedvig Marlstone finally pleased with their work in the garden. She looks down at her hands in dismay, a small cut oozing a bit of blood. She hates the outdoors.

She opens the door to what she deems to be Ashira's room and sees the young woman propped up in a sea of pillows, her pale, olive-toned face smiling weakly as Carameuse walks in. "Father told me that you would be coming to visit. I trust that Mother didn't overwork you?"

Carameuse fights back a grimace, shaking her head. "Your mother is a good woman."

Ashira lets herself sink back into the pillows on her large bed, a pleasant smile on her face. "I suppose you're here to investigate the attack. We did find a white piece of paper outside, something with a curious phrase on it. I think Father threw it out, but if I remember correctly, it said... _Getting Closer._ "

Carameuse nods, mentally filing away the piece of paper. She can feel it, she's getting closer to the bottom of this mystery. She just has to dig deeper. "Could you tell me more about the incident?"

 **Antimony Sinebad, 15  
** **District Three Male**

He leans into Ramses, stroking his long, midnight-black mane and whispering softly into his ear. "We're going to do well, okay? I believe in you, bud. We'll do well. We'll make Ms. Chanson proud."

The two-year-old stallion whinnies in agreement, rearing forward before Antimony leans down and calms him down. The horse has been ornery and excitable the last time Antimony rode him, but he knows that Ramses wants to win. He'll do anything that Antimony wants him to, as long as it'll advance their position in the race.

And Antimony is just fine with that.

The starting stalls open and a loud bell rings that causes Antimony to lean into the dark stallion. Ramses races forward with eager legs, rushing through the pack of horses and narrowly avoiding a panting bay as he goes towards the front. A chestnut horse blocks his way but Ramses pushes past him, his legs moving faster and faster as the two cross the course once.

Antimony never listens to the crowds scream, but he knows that there's upwards of ten thousand people here to watch. With so many in the tent city of Three, horse racing tickets are as cheap as possible to allow more people to come to the event. With many jockeys coming from the tent cities themselves - as well as the legal gambling, which has let more than a few citizens of Three move from rags to riches, Three has adopted horse racing as it's sport.

Does he mind all of the eyes on him? Not really. He can ignore them in the blink of an eye, tuning the roar of the crowds to a dull sound while he focuses on the race. In the moment, he has to ride the horse, breathe the horse, _be_ the horse. He loves being this focused. It feels like himself. It doesn't feel like the son of Curie and Ohm Sinebad, it doesn't feel like the brother of Serenity and Tungsten Sinebad, it feels like himself.

He pushes Ramses faster as an Morgan horse races past them, his legs like spindles that dance along the track. He has to be careful here - horse's legs are delicate and thin. One wrong step, and Ramses could be crippled for life - if his owner even wanted to keep him for that long. Horses who broke their legs were usually killed within the hour.

Ramses passes the Morgan horse and grunts in exhaustion, his muzzle flecked with white spittle and his eyes roll in the back of his head. He's tired, Antimony can feel it, but they're so close to the finish line that he can't stop yet. He has to hold off the Morgan.

Antimony moves Ramses to just in front of the Morgan, slowing down so that he can effectively keep other the horse behind him. The other jockey yells at Antimony and raises his fist in anger, but Antimony darts to the side as the jockey tries to pull Ramses' tail. The jockeys can all be dirty in this game, and they all have to look out for anyone who's trying to sabotage their own ride.

But the Morgan is too late as a mustang darts past them both, snapping the finish tape as his jockey takes off her helmet and whoops for joy. Antimony allows himself a small smile, hopping off Ramses further down the track and tossing his reins to a stable boy. Before reporters can race up to him and ask him the customary questions, he's vanished, hidden among the thousands of fans who are cheering for the winning Mustang and his ecstatic rider.

 **.oOo.**

"Raise you five sesterces." Beta Jacmon slides his red chips into the centre of the table, raising his eyebrows at the rest of the players as he holds his cards close to his chest. He glances at the small, olive-skinned teen on his left, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "They let preschoolers into here now? Last time I checked, the age limit in here was eighteen and over."

The boy smirks, tossing in a few chips to match Beta's bet. "Amazing what money can do to blind people to the truth, am I right?"

"Pshaw, just keep playing fair and I'll keep quiet for ya, bud. I'm all in." Beta slides in all of his chips and smirks as several players fold their cards, leaving just the boy. Beta eyes his own cards, looking in satisfaction at his three kings and his queen. He might not have an ace to make but he's got this in the bag, but he's confident enough to go all out. After all, none of the other players could have more than one ace, if even any, and the boy next to him has been folding regularly. He's about to collect a large pot, he can feel it!

The boy smirks and pushes all of his cards in, nodding to Beta. "I'm in."

They reveal their cards, Beta first, then the boy. Beta's grin slowly falls from his face as he sees the _three_ aces in the boy's hand, as well as the queen smugly sitting next to them. The boy scoops up the chips and strokes the obviously fake mustache he has on his face for dramatic effect, grinning at the rest of the players. "I think it's past my bedtime. Good night, all!"

Antimony vanishes before any of the players can follow him and cashes in all of his money, darting out of the casino and into the streets. He turns left, then right, then walks down the narrow road to the tent city nearest the casino. He has a business appointment.

He soon walks into a tent where a beady-eyed man looks up, happy to see Antimony. Antimony's happy as well - he doesn't like to walk around with this much money, especially with vagrants wandering the tents day and night. He'd rather be back home with his parents by now, but he can't trust that no one would follow him to the house. Here, the money is safe. "I've got the cash from the race, as well as a bonus from a little side trip."

"You went to the casino again? You just can't stop yourself from winning when you're in the mood to, Antimony," the man says, taking the sesterces and pouring them into a bulletproof safe. A few guns are mounted on the brick walls of the house - the tent is just a cover for this safehouse - and they both know that a few hired thugs are patrolling the grounds right now. "Good finish. You'll be pleased to know that your bet on the mustang paid off. Would you like me to invest it in another horse for you, Master Sinebad?"

"Of course!" Antimony grins, patting his pocket and turning to leave. But he turns back, a sure smile forming on his face. "Put it on my horse this time. I'd like a shot at winning next time around."

 **Electra Mancuso, 16  
** **District Three Female**

"You always win the trivia matches in last period!" Nick groans as they march towards the school, his backpack sagging off of his large shoulders. "I'd just like a shot at winning this time around, Electra. Ease up for me this time, will you?"

"I would as well, but I'm in a different period than you two," Joshua cuts in, his green eyes sparkling in the light. Electra decides to grin, supposing that it's the right approach to the situation.

"I _am_ good at the matches. I guess you two should just study harder," she tosses back, smiling brightly to the two boys with a look that surely lets them know that she observes their study habits every night - work an hour and then fall asleep on their desks. They never change.

"We _all_ should. After all, slipping down in the class could mean that we lose our spot in the academy, or at least you. I wouldn't want any of you to go back to those horrid tent cities now that you're all nice and moved in." Alesander adjusts his glasses from behind the three friends and stares at all of them, his lips pressed together tightly. "Keep doing well, the three of you. It's nice to have you guys here."

"He says that every year! It's been seven years!" Joshua laughs and pats Nick on the back, hurrying through the pristine sidewalks towards their school in the distance. "Don't worry about it."

But why wouldn't they worry about it, she wonders as she continues to walk towards the school. It's a very real possibility to be kicked from the school, especially with the fact that the exams count for so much of their marks. She doesn't want to go back to the orphanage, not to that horrible matron who never acted like she should and hated when Electra called her Nellie - a habit that she's never been able to curb around adults. Even if the host family that took the twins and her in would like her to call them by their proper names, she'll forever be stuck calling them Jason and Moira.

She walks into the school and hurries through the halls, then suddenly trips and loses the papers that she's been clutching to the halls of the school. She scrambles around in an attempt to get them back, but a girl collects the papers and holds them out to Electra, a smile on her face. "Here you go!" she says in what Electra deems to be a cheery voice, and Electra smiles in relief. Finally, she's found someone who's nice!

"Thank you so much!" Electra says in relief, reaching out for the papers. But the girl doesn't hand them to Electra, her shadowy eyes flashing from behind thick glasses. Electra avoids looking at them, staring slightly away from the girl.

"I don't think you're as much of a big deal as you think. Just because you got the highest score on the Baron Exams three years in a row doesn't mean you're hot stuff, _orphan_."

"What does orphan have anything to do with it?" Electra asks, genuinely confused. Why is the girl so insistent about the fact that Electra's an orphan? Why is that always the go-to insult in Three? Has she missed something? Has it _always_ been bad to be an orphan? "And I also got the highest score on the Baron Scholarships. You might want to add that to your list."

"You - you think you're so special!" the girl splutters, her face red with anger. "You never even talk to me when I tried to say hi, and you don't apologize when you push past me in the halls, and you're always with those stupid twins. Where are they now, huh? I bet they don't even know where you -"

"Where Electra is?" Joshua asks, moving in front of Electra to face the girl. Nick soon follows suit and the girl shies away, holding her books up for protection. "Don't mess with our friend. You hear me?"

"Why would I do so when she's such a snob, anyway?" the girl says, glaring at Electra. "You could at least _try_ to talk to people other than those twins." Then she vanishes, leaving an empty hallway for the three to stand in.

 _But I don't know how to_ , Electra tries to say, but the words won't come out. She tried at first to speak to people, but she never understood what they meant and they never really wanted to speak with her anyway. So she retreated inside her walls, hiding in the safety of work and the twins. It's safe this way.

"We better all get to class." Nick points to the clock propped up on the wall and walks towards his classroom, Electra following suit while Joshua disappears to his first period. Electra beats Nick into the class and sits down a few seconds before the bell rings, their teacher handing out worksheets for them all to complete. "Hand these to me when you're finished."

Finally, something she's good at! Electra quickly finishes the math problems, handing them to the teacher without a blink of an eye. "There you go, Dorothy."

"It's Mrs. Pittman, Electra. Try to remember that." The teacher sighs and takes Electra's paper, tiredly marking the questions that she already knows will be answered correctly. Electra smiles and sits back down, taking out a book from her desk and reading. She's soon disappointed by the fact that the title, _A Man Alone_ , does not hint in the title that the peacekeeper in the desert soon finds a few men from his company and a girl to boot. Why do books never say what they mean? Why can't everything just work properly and do what they're supposed to, be easier to understand?

The teacher hands another paper to Electra, a harder one this time. "See if you can finish this."

Electra smiles and throws herself at the math, breathing in the numbers as she gets into a haze where she sees nothing but the problems on the paper.

Ah, math never lies. That's probably why she likes it so much. Not like people, who seem to change on a moment's whim.

Electra understands math. If only she could do the same for her classmates. But they'll come and go. The math will still be here tomorrow, waiting for Electra to ease through it and move onto science and the basics of engineering.

Life is good when nothing ever changes.

 **A/N: Bet you didn't expect a chapter today!**

 **Anyways, we have two fun tributes here :3 Electra and Antimony are both cool, so give them love in the reviews. To clarify, Electra has Aspergers, which may clear some things up.**

 **Reminder that there's still the discord server, so if you're interested, pm me! We're filling it up :D**

 **Leave a review about Electra and Antimony! Also, the subplot is just getting started. We'll be starting off slowly, but by the time the reapings are over, some very interesting things will be happening. :3**

 **Anyways, that's all I got for you. I've finished District Four's and Five's intros, so that's awesome, and I hope to put one of them out soon if I can finish District Six sometime in the next few days! It's my last day of Winter Break, which sucks, but at least I've got a bit of time before my exams. Blegh. See you in Four, and until then, TheAmazingJAJ**


	7. District Four Intros: The Tempest

**Carameuse Heloise, 48**

 **Capitol Citizen**

She walks out of Sean O'Donnell's house, frustrated with the little information that she's learned from the man. He seems like he's a raving lunatic, paranoid of all, even her. She's not a fool. She saw the knife that he had tucked up his sleeve, hidden in case she turned out to be one of the 'mad villagers' that he ranted about during his interview with Carameuse. The man's either on drugs, drunk out of his mind, or his mind was destroyed in the Games.

She's not sure which is worse.

She walks through the small inner village of Eleven where a select group of merchants offer their fares, waving away a little boy offering home-baked muffins politely and sets her sights on a group of escorts congregating at the edge of the capital of Eleven's square. She hasn't gotten to speak to any of them yet, but they may prove helpful in her quest to find the mastermind behind the Panem Day attacks. Capitolites, especially those cunning escorts, always seem to have pieces of information that they shouldn't have.

And she plans to get as much of it as she can.

She stops right next to the escorts, pretending to drop her small purse - she would have preferred using something less fragile, but Fiammetta had insisted on the small item - onto the ground. "Could one of you help me with that, please? It would be much appreciated."

The escort from Four - Middy Trotar, if Carameuse recalls her name correctly - turns away and pretends not to hear Carameuse, while the escort from One bends down and hands her the purse - Tito Fuego, she believes. The escort from Two - Carameuse can't remember _her_ name but it starts with a P - rolls her eyes and punches Tito in the arm, a frown on her face. "Argh, Tito! You could have let it get it herself. It's her mistake."

"Life isn't about the storm, it's about dancing in the rain," Tito shoots back, and smiles at Carameuse. _Funny little man,_ she thinks to herself, but the lithe man seems to glide across the square as he moves back to the other career escorts. Tito must be a dancer or something that requires that sort of elegance for him to do that, she's quite impressed by the effort it must have taken him to move like he does. "I'm Tito. I suppose you were looking for an autograph?"

Carameuse remembers with a hidden shudder that she's supposed to act like a normal Capitolite, and hurriedly plasters a ditzy look on her face before the escorts notice anything amiss with Carameuse. "Oh, I'd love one! I suppose you meet all sorts of people. Have you enjoyed your stay on the train so far? I suppose that you've met all sorts of people."

The escort from Two seems to warm up at this point, scribbling a long name down onto the paper that Carameuse had fished out of her leather purse and handing it to Tito and Middy. As the others finish their autographs, Carameuse sneaks a glance at the autograph.

 _Signed by Pirate Pyrette Parroutte Parrot Parithe Paiawright Pyrite the First._

What?

"Oh, there's been all _sorts_ of interesting people that I've met on the train!" Pyrette rambles on, Middy snickering behind the woman's back and shooting a look at Carameuse. Carameuse decides to nod in a confiding matter as if the two are bonding over this shared of experience of listening to Pyrette talking. Perhaps it'll come in handy in the future. "I know a politician whose nephew can create chemical formulas that can knock you out like that! Just like that! And there's this woman on the train who sleeps with anyone she can get her hands on. I think she's a mentor, but that doesn't excuse her behaviour. Could you imagine if she managed to get her claws into a game maker, or even the President? Her district would thrive!"

Carameuse flashes a confused glance and Middy and Tito draw her to the side, pretending to be interested in Pyrette's conversation and nodding every now and then. "Don't worry, I can speak Pyrette. She's talking about one of the politicians, Selena if I recall correctly, and then the mentor is that Ashton. Pyrette exaggerates all the time," Middy says, as if she's ashamed of the girl even though Carameuse can tell that Middy is just as prideful as her peer, "but that Ashton does get around. I'd be ashamed to be her mother."

Carameuse sees a slight oval-shaped bruise on her neck, one that's been attempted to be covered by make-up. Middy's limping slightly, and she seems to have to stretch her back every few minutes. _Oh._ Middy's just as bad as the Ashton she speaks of. "I'm sure you would."

After a few more minutes of small talk, Tito urges the others to leave and says goodbye to Carameuse. As they walk across the square, Middy stumbles and Tito says loudly, "If you stumble, make it part of the dance!"

He's met with a sharp kick to the ankle that sends him stumbling into Pyrette, and Carameuse listens to them all argue until they're out of earshot. She shakes her head in amusement, turning to head back to the train.

My, my, my, she's excited to meet all of these escorts!

 **Fraser Killick, 18**

 **District Four Male**

He lets himself smile as the small motorboat putters through the waves towards the island that lies in the distance, the seven other boys muttering to themselves on the other side of the boat. Bastion Cray mans the motorboat and gamely manoeuvres it through the waves, while the girls are being taken to the island by Magdalene Flanagan, who smiles and waves to Bastion as she putters towards the island.

 _Magdalene Flanagan. Ah, Magdalene Flanagan. If only -_

A few of the boys snicker and whisper to each other as Fraser gazes at Mags, but he silences them with a glare and a clench of his fists. "Shut up."  
They do, likely scared by the sheer size of the angry teen, and Fraser gazes back at the island, the broken rafts and driftwood even more apparent now that Bastion is close to landing. He shouts a cry of good luck as he stops a hundred feet from the island, motioning to the boys to jump out. And they do, Fraser lingering for a moment and watching the girls get out before he jumps out as well. The others have a lead on him, but he'll catch up eventually.

After all, he has a much greater reason to get back first than they do.

He wades ashore and watches as a few of the boys work together to build a raft to pilot back to the shores of Four, while all of the girls spread out and look for different materials to use for their own rafts. It isn't surprising that the girls won't work with one another. After all, it's a race between each other to get back to the shores. First back gets first claims on the volunteering spots.

And he wants that spot.

A girl with long, blonde hair and a tattoo of a wave that towers over the rest of her left arm stands with an arm on her hips in the sands, her face showing confusion. Fraser shrugs and starts collecting driftwood, looking around to see if the victors left any rope for them to use. Maybe Mags did. She's always kind like that.

"So, we all have to build a boat to get back?" the girl asks, and Fraser jumps in surprise.

"Yes." He looks up at the girl in interest before grabbing a piece of wood from the ground, pointing towards District Four in the distance. "First back gets the volunteering spot. Don't you know this?"

"Not really."

"Are you even _from_ here?" asks Fraser, pulling a large log to the rest of the wood that he's collected. "The other side of Four, perhaps?"

"Long story," she grins reluctantly, kicking the sand and revealing a long piece of rope. "Oh, did you want this?"

"Thank you!" Fraser snatches up the rope and starts tying it to the wood in excitement, his knots large and sloppy. The girl bites back laughter and sits down next to Fraser, taking the wood and spreading it out more evenly.

"If you really want an easy-to-make raft, you have to take one large log and place supporting ones under it to stabilize it." She grabs the rope and deftly ties a few smaller logs that Fraser had collected to it, shoving the log into the waters. "So… are you going to go without a paddle?"

"Oh yeah." Fraser walks into the bushes of the island, coming out with two long sticks and large pieces of thick bark in a few minutes. "Can you tie these together?"

The girl smiles and helps Fraser to make his paddles, handing them to him as he climbs onto the log. "Good luck."

"But don't you want to come with me?" Fraser asks, handing the girl a paddle. "If you've come all this way to get the volunteering spot, you might as well come with me. You did help me, after all."

"I suppose I don't have a choice." The girl stands in the waters and steps onto the log, seating herself and helping Fraser to paddle through the first large waves hitting the island. They move quickly and find themselves far away from the island in minutes, the other teens starting to enter the water with their boats as Fraser and the girl paddle towards the shore. "I probably shouldn't have left Mona back there, but she did make me promise that we would work alone."

"Mona?"

"My friend," the girl explains to Fraser, pushing her paddle through the waves and splashing water onto the back of the log. "She came here with me."

"Oh. Why would you two work together when there's only one volunteering spot for both of you?"

"We're volunteering, even if we don't want to." The girl looks bitterly out into the horizon, far away from where, if Fraser thinks hard enough, he can picture an place that Panem hasn't discovered yet. But that's just a crazy dream. _Nothing_ is undiscovered by Panem. "One of us will go this year, and then the other the next."

"Quite the plan you have. Just be prepared to lose to me this year," grins Fraser, paddling faster now that they're close to the shores of Four. "I'm going to win."

"Oh, is that so?" the girl smirks and speeds up as well, letting the other teens fall away in their midst. "What motivates you?"

"I… I'm in love with a girl and I want to prove to her that I'm a good husband."

"Oh. Fair reason to enter a death match, I guess. You do you, I suppose." The girl looks at Fraser curiously, but then turns away. He's glad she didn't examine him too closely. Any further, and she might be driven away by his flaws. "Oh, we're almost here!"

The boat nudges against the sands and the two jump out, the victors and a few locals clapping for the teens as they walk onto dry land. Craig nods curtly, a smaller girl by his side who seems to be around Fraser's age. "You did well. You're both volunteering, yes? And I don't mean you, Shelby."

Shelby shuts her mouth and looks away from Craig, and Fraser nods eagerly. "Yes, I am. I'm really excited to work with you and Mags."

"Not Bastion?" Craig smiles, one of his thick eyebrows lifting up. Fraser starts to stammer a reply, but Craig laughs at him. "I know what you mean, kid. Good luck to you. You'll need it."

He walks off and Shelby watches him with what Fraser identifies as resentment, her glare landing on the victor's back. If looks could burn, she would have seared the dark cloth that made Craig's shirt. But Fraser either doesn't notice her anger or doesn't care as he moves back into the town, his fists clenched in excitement. He's going to win the Hunger Games. He's going to win the Hunger Games!

And if he does, he can finally marry Mags Flanagan.

 **Shelby Doran, 17**

 **District Four Female**

She misses Aloma.

Mona is curled up on the other side of the room in the fluffy mattress that the townspeople gave her, blissfully asleep as the moon shines over the small village they've washed up in.

But Shelby can't fall asleep here. This isn't home.

She's huddling right next to the wall and watching the door swing open and shut, a night breeze pushing through and tickling her chin. Here in Panem, they apparently like to use locks for their doors - something that no one in Aloma ever really did - but they left the door open for the girls to feel more at home.

And it'll be her route to freedom.

She leaves Mona to sleep peacefully, knowing that when she comes back to wake her, Mona will be ready to go. She always woke up easily. It had saved them more than once when waves threatened to swamp their tiny boat. Yes, Mona will be ready to go. They can always rely on each other.

The same can't be said of this Panem they've been trapped in.

She yawns and rubs her eyes, moving towards the bowl of water they've been given and dunking her forehead in. The shock of the water causes her to open her eyes and gasp in surprise, raising her head out of the water and flipping her hair away from the bowl. She traces a pattern on the decorative, ceramic red and white bowl before turning to the door, pushing the light material out of the way as she steps into the night.

"I see you there, child." Shelby yelps and jumps away from the noise, her eyes adjusting to the light that shines from a small, light-blue porch on the other side of the dirt road. Mags Flanagan laughs with her eyes at Shelby, the clear, blue eyes crinkling up in humour and causing Shelby to reluctantly grin. "You can't go running off like that, dear. It will only cause trouble. You don't need more trouble for you and your friend."

Shelby nods and walks over the woman, taking a seat next to her as they watch the sea. The water crashes against the sands in the moonlight, boats bobbing up and down in the waters as they try to escape the ropes that hold them to the shores of Panem.

It's high tide.

"How about you tell me about your world?" Shelby asks, shifting in the comfy chair to look at the older woman. "I know so little about this place, and you haven't even informed me of what these Hunger Games _are_! How can I try to win if I don't know what I'm doing?"

"You're right. You deserve to know more about the Games, especially if Craig is so determined to put the two of you in the Games these next two years. My my, I have no idea at times of what his mind does. He's been so protective of everyone he loves ever since Monique passed away."

Something in her mind clicks and Shelby remembers the girl beside Craig, her light red hair dancing in the breeze of the sea. "How old is the girl he likes to spend time with? The one with red hair?"

"Oh, that's his sister," Mags replies, rocking her chair back and forth as she watches a gull fly into the moonlight before diving into the sea. "Talisa is… seventeen years old this year, oh my! She only has two years left to go before she's free of the Games."

Shelby nods grimly, her view of Craig dropping even lower. No wonder he wants them both to volunteer in the next few years. It's one way he can ensure that his last loved one can still survive. "So, what goes on in the Games?"

"What goes on in the Games? Oh, the most disastrous things you can think of!" Mags chuckles, her eyes dancing in laughter again. Shelby likes her eyes. They're like blue pearls that rose up from the sea, or the stars that shine so far away in the sky.

The stars in Panem don't look like her stars.

"When you volunteer, you'll be spirited away on these trains that the Capitol has stretched out to every district. When you reach the Capitol - the city that rules all of Panem, you'll learn about _them_ soon enough, you'll be allowed to train for a few days with weapons and techniques before you are sent into the Games. And the Hunger Games can include _anything_ \- from islands to forests to savannas to your worst nightmare, my dear girl. Only one makes it out, and they'll be heroes in the districts. Dear me, the Capitol's turned us all so much against one another that we cheer when one of our own makes it out and riot when they die. If we had something to unite us, the Capitol would have another thing coming. But I never said that, my dearie," Mags winks, lifting a finger to her mouth. Shelby nods in understanding, winking to the older woman and hearing an infant cry in the home.

"Oh, that must be Deacon," Mags whispers, stepping through the door and coming back out with a wiggling, sobbing baby. The little boy calms down when Mags sits back down, and sits in her lap with an intense look in his eyes. Shelby waves to the boy and smiles when the baby gives her a grin, and Mags smiles while bouncing the little boy up and down on her lap. "Deacon's been having trouble sleeping the past few nights. He's had a bit of an infection."

"Oh, the poor dear." Shelby looks at the little boy, who grins back at her and tries to grab the necklace of his mother. "What exactly _are_ victors? I've heard about them, but no one's really told me." She doesn't mention Craig's laugh when she asked him the same question, the man shaking his head and walking away from Shelby without a word.

"Victors are the ones who come out of the Hunger Games, Shelby. Of the twenty-four boys and girls who come out of the twelve districts for the Games, only one comes out, and that's our victor. I'm - I'm one of them, I have to admit. It must seem rather barbaric to you, that I'm praised and followed for killing children."

"Wait, there's _twelve_ other districts?" Shelby stammers, trying to put her thoughts together. "You aren't a small island nation like my home?" She shakes her head in confusion, looking at the sea and towards where she thinks home should be. If only she could convince them to go back, away from this strange nation of districts and war and killing. But she has no way to do so, only a curse to be tossed into the Games.

Unless… unless…

"Are the victors powerful and strong? Do people listen to them?" Shelby asks Mags, cocking her head to the side. "Do you have a lot of control?"

"I suppose so!" Mags laughs, rocking Deacon and smiling at Shelby. "People _do_ like to come to me for advice, I suppose. And a few of the victors do know higher-ups in the Capitol."

Shelby nods, her thoughts racing faster and faster until she reaches the only conclusion. "Thank you for telling me, Mags. I'm feeling rather tired, now. I think I'll go to bed."

Mags nods and Shelby walks back into the hut, slipping onto her mattress and staring up at the ceiling. The room doesn't have the same sense of foreboding now.

That's because she knows she can escape. She's going to win the Hunger Games!

And then, she can leave for home with Mona.

 **A/N: Another intro! Wonders never cease!**

 **Anyways, that's the pair from Four. You might think that the challenge for Four to enter the games is a bit wimpy, but trust me, they're just an emerging career district. They're not going all out like One.**

 **I have nothing to say about either of these tributes, except that they're both quite fun and spicy hehe they're going to be a blast to write more!**

 **Anyways, we're a third through the intros and a not even a third through January! As you may recall, I've been keeping two intros in my pocket in case something comes up, and District Five and Six are comfortably seated in there. Once I finish up the next intro, expect District Six!**

 **Anyways, please review! I love seeing your thoughts on the tributes and the subplot, and I can't wait to share with you this awesome story. Hopefully it's been to your liking so far, because we're getting closer to the Capitol every chapter... reminder about the Discord server, and that's all from me. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	8. District Five Intros: A Farewell to Arms

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

The train rattles in the night and stirs Carameuse from her slumber, the woman rubbing her eyes blearily before reaching for a pair of slippers and a suitable nightgown for walking around the train. She has to keep _somewhat_ of an image up for the other passengers, even if she doesn't want to.

As she wraps the nightgown around her body and ties up the belt to keep the nightgown from coming apart, she watches the fields of Eleven finally fade away and gives way to more steady, open plains. They're not fenced in and gated like Eleven was, but seem wild, non-Panem. It's almost like the plains are freer than Panem wants them to be.

She likes that. Even if she wouldn't go out there for the day for all the sesterces in the world.

She looks down approvingly at the dark green nightgown that she's chosen - not a lacy and flimsy one, but a thick, durable nightgown. It's good for tucking things into - she's already found all of the hidden pockets that she had forgotten were in there, and made a few more of her own in case she'll be in need of them.

She walks out of her room and moves through the train quickly this time, her mind adjusted to the train and it's rooms. It's quite elaborate, she muses, running her hand along the amber-shaded siding of the hallway and almost skipping as she walks into the next car. There's something about the train that makes her feel different.

Or maybe that's the wig. It really does transform her, doesn't it?

She pushes back the blonde locks falling into her face and walks towards the bar, then turns back. She doesn't need to speak to the bartender tonight, Carameuse has milked all of the information she can out of the girl. No, tonight it's time to speak with Hart. It's always good to speak with the avoxes, especially when they're ignored by everyone else on this train while seeing so much at the same time. Perhaps they may be criminals, rebels, but they're not commodities, they're human beings. It's quite disappointing what Fiammetta's allowed for the criminals of Panem.

But that's not her view to speak. After all, Fiammetta's a good person, after all. She's just been thrust into a position of power where she has to make hard decisions.

Or maybe Carameuse should be harder on Fiammetta.

The matter can wait for another day. Right now, she has a man to find.

As she turns around and walks towards the avox quarters, she bumps into a man with grey-ish brown hair and a thin beard. The man turns and glares slightly at Carameuse, holding his head up so that he can look down at her in disdain, even though he must be decades younger than her. "Watch where you're going. One of these days, you'll run into a thing that goes bump in the night."

Carameuse expertly keeps herself from smirking at his statement, and steps to the side so that he can pass. "I'm sorry, sir. I hope you have a pleasant evening."

The man laughs slightly and walks away, muttering under his breath. "Pleasant? Ha, the woman is more..."

She smiles at the young man and continues walking towards the avox quarters, letting herself get lost in her thoughts once again. No, it wouldn't be that Ashton who had pulled off all of these murders, she was too ditzy to do so. It was someone who could think deeper. Who could keep an eye out when others let caution fly to the wind…

She bumps into another person, but before she can stammer out an apology to them, she looks up and is greeted by a carbon copy of the man she had bumped into, this time in avox clothing. The shock is so great that Carameuse can't help herself from blurting out her surprise, causing the avox to raise an eyebrow. "But you… you're the same man as the other one in the hallway!"

The avox shrugs and continues pushing a large cart through the hallways, Carameuse nimbly dodging it. But instead of finding Hart, she watches the man vanish with a small grin on her face.

Yes, this train is interesting _indeed_.

 **Sasha Sone, 17  
** **District Five Male**

If he gets caught doing this, at least he'll have tried his best.

He sidles closer to the man selling apples on the side of the street, eyeing a few plump fruits in the middle of the stand. He's always hungry these days, especially when the crops from Eleven don't deliver in time and Five goes into food shortages. Those are the worst times of the year for Sasha, worse than the cold winter, which only makes him work hard to find food, and the spring, where water floods the streets near the lake and he's stuck in the suburban areas. At least then he can steal. But when there's a food shortage? All of Five seems to go into a catatonic state.

Sasha takes a step closer, then another, and then before the fruit seller can even blink Sasha's snatched a few apples and has ran off into the streets, pushing past the throng of workers marching towards the power plants as he finds a place to hide and eat his meal. He spots a peacekeeper in the throng and turns away, hiding the apples in his raggedy sweatshirt so that no one will notice them. He doesn't need to be caught today, not after he's been here for so long.

It's been a while since he's slept inside. Sometimes a kind family will take him in for the night, but he usually leaves before they wake so that he can get on with the day. He never steals anything, though: he wouldn't do that to someone who's shown such kindness to him. Not after how much he's had to deal with.

He remembers the fire that claimed his father very vaguely, like his memory is a videotape that's fuzzy and starting to glitch in the middle. But he can still feel the heat of the flames on his back, he still remembers the screams of his teacher when she told him and the other kids to run out of the building, still has the scar on his right arm from the rafter beam of the schoolroom he was in that grazed his shoulder, still can remember watching his father dash into the school, unaware that Sasha had already made it out, and still knows exactly where his father's gravestone is. He visits there every so often, sullenly standing in front of the grave and muttering a few words of remembrance before turning back to get out of the cemetery. He doesn't like to be in there for too long, breaking into a run when he nears the gates. It reeks of death.

He's had enough of death.

He remembers when his mother started locking him outdoors, starting with a bitter night when he accidentally dropped a plate on the ground and shattered it. He had suspected that she had never forgiven him for the loss of her husband, who had been looking for Sasha in the inferno when he had died, but he hadn't thought that she would go so far as to abandon him on the side of the road. Sometimes, if he's lucky, she'll let him in for a night and he can try to warm up near the fire. That's only if she's drunk enough to not remember who he is. But she doesn't get drunk that often anymore, and the times she does she usually locks the doors so that no one can steal anything - so that he can't in.

He's given up on his mother. She'll never do anything for him, even if he had done nothing to her. It's better to be alone. When you're alone, there's no one to hurt you.

He shakes his head free of the memories and watches the streets from his spot on the side of the road, munching on one of the stolen apples. It's odd to say, but stolen food tastes better than normal food. Even though it's wrong to do so, it feels like he's worked for it.

A man walks into the crowd and grabs the sleeve of a young man, yelling at him loudly and shouting for a peacekeeper to come help him. From what Sasha can hear, the older man is blaming the young adult he's caught of rebellion, of treason. That only leads to death in Five, death or prison for life. Sasha would never want to mess with that himself. It's too risky.

As the two men argue, Sasha sees a girl slip through the crowds, unnoticed by all. She looks around for any observers - she's attentive, Sasha notes - and jabs something into the side of the older man's arm before disappearing. The accuser of the younger man looks down in surprise and feels his arm, then collapses into the ground. By the time the peacekeepers reach him, the girl is long gone, and only Sasha has seen her do it.

And he wouldn't say anything to the peacekeepers. He admires those strong enough to face the bullies of the world. They're getting rid of one more person who could throw Sasha into jail.

Sasha stands up and throws the core onto the curb of the street, jogging away from the panicked scene before anyone notices him. If he's followed by peacekeepers, he can just turn in the girl who he saw. Even if she's a good person, he still has to look out for himself.

So he runs faster, so he doesn't have to make the decision.

He slows down as he gets closer to the Hall of Justice, giving the finger to the flag of Panem, blithely waving in the breeze above them all. He might not be totally against the Capitol, but he sure isn't for them either. If they were any good at what they did, he'd be off of his streets.

But he's stuck with this life, and he'll grimly bear his load and move through the streets while pretending that he's not a disturber of the peace.

After all, how could it ever change?

 **Colleen Tosse, 17  
** **District Five Female**

Flip! She tosses the pizza dough up into the air, the circle of pale, pasty white dough hovering in the air before it plummets back down onto the counter.

 _The boy leans in closer to Colleen, flashing her a grin with a sauce-stained apron over his broad shoulders. "Make sure to spread that sauce evenly, new girl. You look young to be in here. You sure you're not looking for the kiddie menu instead?"_

" _Mr. Ratatouille is just fine with me working here," she shoots back, her dark blue eyes narrowing in frustration… and curiosity. " And I look older than I am. Any health inspectors won't realize my age, if they even decide to come. But why did he choose you? Because your last name's Saucer? You're the one who should be doing this to the pizza. I can take over with that cheese you're grating, Saucer."_

 _The boy snickers, patting Colleen on the back. She bristles slightly when he does so, but relaxes as he steps away. "You're funny. Here, use this ladle to make sure it's even. That way, you won't have pizza soup when it comes out of the oven." He tosses her a long ladle, and she gratefully dips it into the sauce and spreads the warm, delicious smelling liquid over her pizza dough._

" _Thank… you."_

" _No problem!" he replies, dark eyes flashing as he wipes his hands on his apron. "It's Turmeric Saucer, by the way. Pleased to meet you."_

Bang! She clangs the pots on the oven together as she takes the ladle out of the sauce, seasoned with fresh ginger and garlic that she had bought at a few of the black markets in Five, and spreads it evenly over the pizza. She doesn't even have to look to see that it's even - she's done it so many times that she can rely on pure muscle memory by this point. It's simple.

" _It's simple," she whispers to Turmeric, pointing to the man at the stand with exotic spices and vegetables that smell divine surrounding him. "You just have to go up to the man, and show him that you got bad spices from him. If you say it loudly enough, other people are going to hear and then he'll be forced to give you compensation. You don't have to worry about a thing, Turmeric. I have a good feeling about this."_

" _If you say so," he sighs, taking a step towards the man and clearing his throat so that others in the black market look towards him. "Excuse me, sir? When you gave me my tarragon, you purposely put in thyme at the bottom so that it would be ruined. I'd like a refund, sir."_

 _The man hardens his stare, giving a rude gesture to Turmeric. "And you bought it, fair and square. Now get out of here boy, before you get the peacekeepers in here."_

 _People in the crowd murmur in confusion and a few chant for the merchant to give Turmeric a refund, but the man refuses. He slaps the bag of tarragon out of Turmeric's hands, letting it spill onto the muddy ground. "Get out of here, boy! Haven't I told you once?"_

 _Turmeric breathes heavily and looks at the man, and Colleen watches him make a split decision. With quick hands, he grabs a large bag of spice and darts away, Colleen quickly following him with panicked breaths. Oh Panem, oh Panem, oh Panem, what have they done now?_

 _They stop in a small alleyway with gasps for breath, both sinking to their knees and gazing at the spice. Then they dissolve into tears of laughter, trying to breathe while they recover from their frantic run._

 _And she wouldn't have it any other way._

She slides the pizza into the oven just as her grandmother walks into the room, Kelstra Tosse raising an eyebrow at Colleen and sitting down next to their chessboard. "Would you like a game, Colleen? I know you have to go soon, but I can take the pizza out of the oven for you. I'm not an old geezer just yet!"

 _An old woman walks onto the stage, confidently drawing out the name and stumbling over her heels. The Mayor runs to help, but she brushes him away and stands back up. "I'm fine! I'm not an old geezer like you seem to think I am, Mayor Andersen."_

 _The Mayor blushes and moves away as she announces the female for Five, the crowd laughing at the encounter before respectfully falling back to silence as the girl walks up onto the stage. Colleen doesn't pay much attention to her, but she likes the way the girl moves. She belongs up on that stage._

 _But she doesn't have much time to reflect on the girl, because Turmeric is picked next._

"Checkmate!" Kelstra leans back in her chair with an easy grin while Colleen shakes her hand, nodding to her granddaughter. "Finally, I've managed to beat you after your three-game streak! You can't beat your old grandma that easily, Colleen. Now, get going to your appointment. I expect that your handlers want you reasonably early. I'll take care of the pizza, just like I said. Now go! Don't be late! Go!"

" _Go! Go! Go!" Colleen screams at the television as Turmeric and his ally try to run into the castle, but the boy from Three distracts Meric and they fight for a bag in the midst of the bloodbath. She buries her head in her hands when he's grabbed by the boy from Two, the career holding Meric in a chokehold before holding a knife up to his throat. Just before he slumps to the ground, he mouths one word to his ally._

 _Go._

 _She vanishes, and Colleen looks up to see the body of her best friend lying on the ground._

 _When her father dies just three days later, she barely has any tears left to cry._

She walks through narrow streets, filled with people searching for what they want. She already knows where she's going - to a small shop on the side of the main street with a dingy red sign hanging over it. She ducks under the low-hanging sign and nods to the cashier, showing the coin with the face of a man with spiky hair. "I'm here to talk with Theo."

The cashier nods, pointing towards the curtain behind her, and Colleen ducks through the curtain and into the rebel headquarters that she works for. Theo Farrera nods curtly to Colleen and points to a table with darts and a small bottle beside them, a young woman packing them neatly into a bag for Colleen. "You'll be finding your suspect today, and taking him down before he has any more chances to leak information about us."

"So I'm going after our mole?"

"Of course. I wish you luck, Colleen. I wouldn't want to lose you when you're doing so well with us. Be safe."

Colleen smiles at the closest that Theo can get to affection and salutes him, her face turning to a worried grin. "If I get caught, at least I'll have tried my best."

 **A/N: School is bleh, as always. But we've finally finished every last assignment, so it's only the exams left to go! Woohoo! Anyways, say what you think about the chapter, pls review, and love this tributes very much. That is all. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	9. District Six Intros: A Study in Scarlet

**Note:** _some weird stuff in Armani's section. If you don't like gore, skip the italics at the beginning and you'll be all good._

 **Hart Bison, 48  
** **Avox**

Carameuse comes late at night to discuss matters with Hart, but he has nothing to tell her. For all of his efforts, he hasn't seen anything peculiar on this train yet, other than Carameuse, of course. Sometimes, he feels like she's the only one here with a brain that she uses periodically.

But he doesn't think of Carameuse as he carts bedsheets through the narrow hallway, trained arms nimbly keeping the cart from bashing into the side and possibly ripping part of the upholstery. Panem forbid something like that would happen on this train, he doesn't think he could live through another reprimand from the avox handlers on the train. He's accidentally broken things before in his earlier years as an avox, but he only knows that because others told him he did. It's a well-known rumour that avoxes get their minds partially wiped and false memories implanted so that they will be none the wiser for what they've done. He doesn't particularly understand how that would help them to learn from their mistakes, but he knows that every few years, his memory of his daughter, little Sally seems to fade a little more.

He opens a door and takes bedsheets inside, wrinkling his nose at the stench of perfume and liquor mixed together, complete with stains of both and more on the soiled bed sheets. He quickly tosses them into the bottom basket and replaces them both, folding the blankets above them neatly so that they're ready for use later tonight.

As he moves into the next room, he's greeted with the same little girl that he had seen on the train that first day. Those are still the same brown locks of hair, cunning little freckles on her cheeks, and a snub little nose that reminds him so painfully of his daughter. She waves to him, obviously alone in the room with pieces of paper scattered around her. Hart takes in the sight of her artwork, unable to hide his surprise of how neat, how precise she is for someone who must be nine at most. _You draw beautifully_ , he signs before remembering she doesn't know avox-speak. But the girl laughs and imitates his hands, gathering up her drawings and putting them into a neat little pile. "You're funny. I don't know why Daddy hates avoxes, I think they're very funny. You _are_ an avox, right?"

Hart nods, and takes off the bedsheets of her mattress before tossing them into the dirty basket and replacing them. He finds a little doll in the folds of her blanket and hands it to her, the girl immediately giggling and hugging the doll with all her might. "Thank you! I'll go put Flossy in her bed now. She must be tired from our day."

He grins at the little girl and begins to exit the room, amused with her antics. She is like Sally, with her boldness and curiosity.

He misses his Sally.

But the little girl calls to Hart, her voice questioning him politely. "Could you bring these papers to the man in the next compartment? He dropped them when he went into his room last night."

Hart takes the papers from the girl, smiling and waving as he walks out with the large cart. But if he could talk when he sees the papers, he wouldn't be able to help himself from yelping in surprise.

But one thing is for sure - he needs to get these to Carameuse.

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
** **District Six Male**

He walks through the streets of his neighbourhood, a few adults talking next to a small tree quieting as they notice the howling wolf emblazoned on the side of Jackson's jacket. He fidgets with his jacket and pulls the dark sleeve up to his elbow, leaving it rolled so that only a glimmer of silver will warn any other people who come close to him that he has a knife.

Not that he'll ever have to use it, though. He's never personally gotten into a major fight, as his relatively untouched face, blemished by only a small scar right under his chin, can attest to. But if he ever has to get to that point, he will kill anyone who gets in his way.

He hopes.

The small, rented building that the gang had managed to purchase by pooling their money together - although they all know that most of it came from illegitimate supplies - stands firmly at the edge of the neighbourhood, and he quickens his pace to a jog to get there. He doesn't like moving slowly, life is too short to stop and sniff the roses.

No, he has to keep going as fast as he can. There's no other way to conquer the world, is there?

He smiles and opens the door, one of the boys looking up from a chair and nodding to Jackson. "Hey, Jackson. Nice to have you here."

"Nice to see you too, Logan. I suppose we're just lounging, today?"

"Yeah, no Rogue sightings today. We're lucky."

Jackson nods in relief and sinks into a comfy chair near the door, drawing out his knife and tossing it in the air lazily. He grabs it by the handle each time, the knife secure in his hand. He's done it so much, it's muscle memory for him. It's simple to do so. He loves performing little tricks like that, it makes him seem stronger to the rest of the gang, and it's good that he looks strong. He _is_ their leader, after all. He can't be a wimp when they're all looking up to him.

He's still sitting in the chair and tossing his knife into the air when a breathless girl comes flying into the room, the soles of her sneakers squeaking as she stops in her tracks and tries to gasp out her message. "Fire… Rogues… West End."

Jackson cuts himself when he grabs the knife and tucks it into his sleeve, but he doesn't pay attention to the pain. No, he has to go help.

He yells at the others to follow him, then follows the direction that the girl pointed him to with legs going faster than he can imagine. The huge, tall apartment buildings give no indication of a fire - that is, until he rounds the corner and sees a huge building on fire. There's a steady stream of men and women coming out of the building, holding onto children and precious possessions while thick, choking smoke hangs over them all. The flames are bright orange and almost blue at their tips, the heat of the inferno seeming to singe his eyebrows as he steps closer to the building.

Logan catches up to him and points breathlessly towards a side door in the building, a few men walking out with cloth-covered objects. "You see their logo? Rogues, Jackson. Come on!"

Logan darts towards the men and with a sigh, Jackson follows. Hopefully, this won't be the Panem Day Disaster all over again. He doesn't want to be thrown in jail on trumped up charges again. He remembers it that unpleasant memory all too well, even though the only thing _he_ had personally done was just knock that one boy out while trying to get to the suitcase. And it wasn't even that stupid blackmail book that the courier who had notified one of the Rogues had promised it would be, but a silly little piece of paper that something that he can't remember. It was nothing but a wild goose chase, to spread more havoc amongst the already tense citizens of Six.

No, he doesn't want another Panem Day on his hands.

But Logan tackles the man and hits him with his fists, the man falling into the side of the building and hitting his head on one of the bricks. Down he went like a brick - _heh,_ Jackson thinks - and Logan drags him out of the way before turning towards the other man. "Get… out… of… this… neighbourhood."

Jackson reveals his knife for effect, throwing it at the man's arm just after the Rogue bolts away to wherever that gang have holed themselves up in.

He doesn't bother following them, but even if he did, the man coming out of the building with a wrench would have stopped him in his tracks. Jackson just barely dodges the wrench but stumbles over the unconscious Rogue, landing on the pavement and holding his knife up in defence. He shuts his eyes, hoping that it doesn't hurt too much.

After a few seconds and a rather loud bang, he opens his eyes to see that the man hasn't hit him, after all, lying prone on the ground instead. Another second of observation, and he sees that a girl is standing over him with the leg of a broken chair - the rest of the chair surrounds the man - and a warm smile, something that he wouldn't expect her to have in the heat of the fire.

 _Selena Greyson_.

"You alright?" she asks Jackson, and he manages to fumble a reply out of his treacherous mouth, so clumsy at the moment.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for helping me, Se-Selena." He grimaces inwardly and keeps an emotionless expression on his mouth, trying to not let Selena know that his sweat isn't being caused by only the fire.

"We should get out of the way. Peacekeepers and volunteer firefighters should be coming soon. Who knows, maybe the building will fall down before they do!" She hauls Jackson to his feet and moves him back into the crowd, her smile twisting into an excited grin. "Was that a Rogue that I knocked out?"

"Yeah, you could tell by his jacket. You really me helped out, Selena. I mean you _helped me_ out." He bites his lip in frustration and looks at Selena, a thought rising into his mind. "You know, there's always a spot on the Wolves for you."

"As much as I'd love to help you guys out, and as much as I admire you all for protecting the neighbourhood, I'm not joining a group to be the token female. I'm sorry, but you have to get some more girls into there before I consider helping you. Even if your heart's in the right place, it _is_ a bit sexist to not think of asking girls when you recruited the first time around."

Jackson curses inwardly, remembering that day. He hadn't been thinking, but he should have asked a few girls to be in the gang. After all, they could fight just as well as he could. It's just that his tongue gets so twisted whenever he's around one of them, especially Selena…

His thoughts distract him from Selena vanishing into the crowd, and he moves back with a sigh to the Wolves. He shouldn't try to keep getting her into the gang, but he keeps making the same mistake. He already has this family, these teens that will protect each other through anything.

He doesn't need anyone else.

Does he?

 **Armani DeCormick, 14  
** **District Six Female**

 _Her parents are dead._

 _She sees their bodies huddled together on the floor, her father's honey-brown eyes wide open as he reaches towards his dead wife with a cold, still hand. He'll never reach her. Armani sees with a wave of horror that his throat is slit and blood still gushes out of the cut, revealing ragged muscle and bone and gore, the stench of it all making her scream. "No! No!"_

 _The blood forms a pool on the ground, soaking her mother's short brown hair. Lilith DeCormick's torso seems to be… just gone, with entrails and intestines and blood and Panem-knows-what sticking out of where her stomach should be. But with terror, Armani sees that her heart is still there, beating in place like a crazed drum played by an insane man. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-ba-ba-dump! Ba-ba-ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-ba-dump!_

 _She weeps with her eyes closed, but no matter how tightly she shuts them, she can still see it all too clearly. Then, the voices start, taunting her with muttered phrases and curses that make her cry for help. She hates the voices._

 _A man is standing in the corner, her head down and a knife in his long, slender hand. Her eyes still shut, Armani takes a step closer to the man. She tries to go back, but her feet have a mind of their own and take her closer to the man._

 _Another step._

 _Another step._

 _Another step._

 _Another step._

 _And then he turns around, his eyes like holes of nothingness that try to grab her soul. She shuts her eyes tighter and covers her ears to keep the voices away, but the more she does so, the louder they get and the more clearly she can see his eyes. No, there's something in one of them. The left eye has a red object, a…_

"Armani! Armani! Get up!" The voice of her sibling, Rory, wakes her from her delusion, and she looks around from where she was huddled with panicked eyes. No, it looks normal. It looks safe.

She's not in the day-terror anymore.

"That must have been a bad epileptic episode, Armani. I was yelling at the top of my lungs, yet you still couldn't hear me." Rory's eyes shine with worry, and they give Armani a warm hug. "At least you're up to take the trash out."

"Rory!" she half sighs, half yells as her sibling dissolves into tears of laughter, wiping them away before facing Armani again. They snicker, then run out of the room before Armani has a chance to chase them. With a slight smile on her face, Armani leans back on the wall and tries to regain her breath. No, it doesn't feel right here, she can still feel the unpleasant touch of darkness. She needs to be safe. She needs to get away from those day-terrors.

She walks down the stairs rather jerkily, stumbling over a few of the steps before turning into the living room. Lilith DeCormick is sitting on the couch, watching something on the television, and her head turns to see her daughter walk into the living room. "How are you doing, sweetheart? Rory said you had an episode earlier today."

 _Lilith's heart is the only thing left of her torso, her dead, mangled head lying just a few feet away from it. Undead eyes stare at Armani, and the heart beats like an insane drum. Ba-thump! Ba-thump!_

"It was okay," she says hoarsely, sitting down on the couch and moving closer to her mother. "Not as bad as others I've had."

Lilith envelops Armani in a large hug, and Armani sinks deeper into the embrace. She feels warm, loved, protected from anything that could hurt her.

She's not scared of the day-terror now.

A few minutes later, Armani reluctantly gets out of the hug and looks at the TV. "What are you watching, Mom?"

"Oh, just a Capitol program on the Games, pretending that there's not only seven channels on this thing." Lilith points at the Game Makers clustered around the famed Control Room, maneuvering around a hologram of the arena from last year. Then, just as suddenly, it switches to the arena and Armani sees the future victor shiver in his shirtless attire, trying to stay warm in the final three. If it wasn't for the massive gash in the side of his arm, she'd be near-salivating over his abs and the tan he's gotten from the arena.

Sam doesn't stay on the beach long, trying to warm himself up by lighting a fire and roasting a wild chicken that he had caught near the cornucopia - one which attracts a girl from the forests. Decked out in a huge sweater that must be her attempt at keeping warm, she comes closer and closer, each step taking her closer to her doom.

Then the huge crab appears, snapping its pincers and smashing the girl from Five in a heartbeat. As her cannon booms, Sam looks up in terror and runs for the hills - where the girl from Two, his former ally, is. She hears the cannon and starts walking down towards the cornucopia, unaware of her imminent doom.

She never has a chance. Sam bashes into her and stabs her with his spear without thinking, getting up and running before the crab comes to finish the job.

Lilith flicks off the TV with a press of the remote and shudders, moving closer to her daughter. "My, my, that was horrid. I do hope that this year offers a less nasty arena. I'd never want to see that for our district."

"I'd never want to be in an arena like that," Armani replies, shuddering and repeatedly rolling her shoulders. She doesn't really know why she's rolling her shoulders, but it's comforting. And sometimes, that's all that matters.

"We'll never let you go into the arena, sweetheart." Lilith smiles at her daughter, making Armani give a small grin.

"Not until you throw out the garbage, sweetheart!" Rory's voice carries from the kitchen, their sarcastic tone making Armani grin in spite of herself.

"I'll go do that now." She grabs the trash bags and lugs them down several flights of stairs, throwing them into the growing pile of trash bags for the garbage man to pick up later today. If only she could throw away her day-terrors away like the trash, to be discarded forever.

But they're part of her now.

And no matter how hard she tries, she'll never be free.

 **A/N: Well, this was a fun chapter, wasn't it? Armani has a few issues that she doesn't even seem to understand herself, I know, but one thing I want to make clear is that she has schizophrenia, not epilepsy. As you get to know her more, you'll know why she thinks it's epilepsy and why she was misdiagnosed. Anyways, halfway through the intros! Exciting! I'm proud of the fact that I made it halfway before the end of January, and I can't wait to get through the remaining six intros with you all. Just gotta get through my exams, and we're going to have a fun finish to the intros ;))**

 **Thanks for 100 reviews! I'm really excited that we've made it to that mark so soon in the story, and I think we're going to have a great time throughout Hiraeth. I'm hoping that you all will continue to stick with this story, and I have a lot of exciting things planned :DD So stick around, keep reviewing, and get ready to get to the train rides - which aren't that far away!**

 **If you haven't heard already, my new partial SYOT Caveat Lector is out! Go sub! It'll be shorter than Hiraeth and this story is still my main focus, but I've got a few exciting things in there :DD**

 **Anyways, that's all I got for you. I've got exams, so the next chapter won't be out _that_ soon, but I'll see if I can't muster up another one in the next week or so :P Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	10. District Seven Intros: Groomed to Die

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

"Yeah, it's not fun when you have to help out with the milking chores. Why would the Mayor of Ten even have cows? The idea is simply preposterous, you know," the escort from Ten continues, a wave of disgust coming over their face. "I enjoy the fineries that come from this district, but they certainly more barbaric than one gives them credit for." The woman shakes their head, white-blonde curls bobbing along with the movement.

"Of course, of course," Carameuse murmurs, shifting the blonde wig that she's still being forced to wear - even after an impassioned call to Fiammetta yesterday, the president remained apathetic and refused to let her to remain with her natural grey hair. So what if she has her hair naturally? She's never cared for bright colours. They stick out too much. They draw too much attention to herself, like this skimpy gown that she has to wear because of the fact that the rest of her attire is in the hands of the launderers. Actually, they should be done drying now. "I must go to check on my laundry, but I'm certainly horrified to hear that you've been treated as such. I do hope that the tributes are a bit better for you, Ottava."

Ottava nods their head firmly, her green sleeves falling down to her hands so that only her fingers are visible. "I do hope that."

"Are your experiences in Ten not up to standards, dearest Ottava?" Freya Cartier calls from the other side of the room, her bright grey, red, and blue outfit, reminescent of the wiring that is found in so many of the inventions of the district she's been chosen to escort for, Three. "A pity, a pity."

"Shut up, Cartier," Ottava snarls. "You don't get to mock everyone who displays emotions."

Freya grins blithely, batting her eyes in innocence. "But I'm applauding the fact that you're finally showing, Ottava. It's wonderful to see that you're not an animatron."

The escort from Three dodges the glass that's thrown at her, pushing past an elderly lady to gleefully escape from Ottava's clutches. Carameuse smiles quietly, then turns away to the exit.

She still has to pick up her garments, after all.

But before she leaves the room, a breathless Hart bumps into her before throwing papers into her hands.

Puzzled, she glances down and sees the three words printed on the white piece of paper at the top of the small pile, stained at the edges from Hart's sweaty fingers.

 _Ember is next_.

Oh, Panem.

May whatever gods who are watching from the heavens save them all indeed.

 **Timber Sycamore, 14  
** **District Seven Male**

He pulls the cable over the large log before lugging it to the large cart that the others are standing by, firmly fastening it around the pole used to tie the cables to. "The log is ready to pull! Pull, guys! Vic-tree is ours!"

Tom, hidden to Timber's view by the large horses ready to pull on the other side of the cart, groans at Timber's pun before whispering with a reassured tone to the horses. The bay-coloured animals whinny and lunge forward, their large back muscles straining to pull the log onto the road. Step by step, they make it closer and closer to the road before their hooves catch on the firm dirt and they comfortably fall into a walking pace. The log follows behind and Timber walks alongside it, careful to be in a place where it can't swerve and hit him suddenly. He's seen it happen before to others. It's not pretty.

"Watch out, Timber!" Gary's voice warns Timber to jump to the side as the log makes a small leap over a stone embedded in the dirt road, the large, rough bark cracking by the impact as it falls back down before being pulled towards the lumberyard again. Timber smiles and starts running after the horses, Tom and Gary both walking next to the huge carthorses to make sure that they aren't startled by anything.

"We're almost there, right?" Gary asks Tom as one of the horses lifts a large black hoof and places it inches away from Tom's foot, both of the teens unaware of the near-catastrophe. "Ma wants me to help stack firewood after this shift. Just one more log."

"Oh, is your mother needle-ing you to finish your chores?" Timber laughs, a large smile etched on his tanned, angular face. He pushes away the brown hair that dangles over his eyes, then walks quickly to catch up to the other boys. "Don't hurt yourself while you lift those logs! I'm _root_ ing for you!"

Tom almost laughs in spite of himself before fixing his face into a scowl, trying to look away from the smirking Timber. "Why do I laugh at your jokes? They're not even funny, and I _hate_ puns. You're such a dad, Timber."

"Fantastic!" says Timber, smiling as he steps out of the way of the turning log before heading through the gates and into the vast lumberyard. At the back, he can see the huge stacks of fallen logs, sorted into piles of maple, pine, beech, and so on and so forth for as far as he can see. Brawny lumberjacks with axes and bundles of sticks walk hurriedly throughout the yard while others work on piling the lumber, and he can hear the distinct sound of a chainsaw in the very back where the most trusted lumberjacks are set to work on cutting the logs down to size for shipment to the Capitol. "I couldn't see you do any better, Tom. Or you, Gary. Try it! I bet you a sesterce you won't be able to think of one better than me."

"Oh _treea_ ly," Gary blurts out, his dark skin being covered with wood chips as the wind changes direction and brings the first layer of dirt from the yard along with it. "You _maple_ a muscle from laughing, Timber."

"Wow, that was _acorn_ y tree pun," Timber laughs. "Your puns _arbour_ ing, Gary. Get used to me being the best of us all." He turns to Tom, who's been smirking at Timber's puns. "And the winner?"

"Unfortunately, it's you once more, Timber. I can't wait for Gary to find another brain cell to defeat you. But until then, you are the champion." Tom dodges the pine needles that Gary scoops from off of the ground to throw at him, running towards the shack where the foreman is waiting. "I got to sign out and get home! You should as well. Curfew is going to be soon!"

Timber trails after him with Gary, both signing their names and the time on their timesheets before nodding to the foreman. The large, pudgy man nods to them under a red ballcap, and the boys race out of the yard, waving to a girl who is leading their carthorses away to the stables. "I'll beat you to the lodge!"

Gary shakes his head before sprinting after Timber, both running towards the lodge that they call home. Tom lives in the town that they've been assigned to, so he's able to sleep with his family when he calls it a day, but they're both stuck in the large men's lodge that they live in with over a hundred other men who live in this town. It's a hard life, but it's honest. Every few weeks, Timber gets to go home for the day and see his family once more. That's the best time of the month, seeing his family, laughing at his dad's corny jokes, and talking with Charity and his mom. He's missed home every day since that date six months ago when he accepted the job here, but his visits back always sate his need to see them all again.

They always do.

"Oh… Panem, Timber, there's a whole turkey right there!" Timber looks away from the setting sun to see a large, plump turkey walk out of the forest they're journeying through, ruffling its feathers as it looks at the boys. Gary gasps and takes a slow step towards the bird, scooping up a handful of stones. "If we can get it back to the lodge without any peacekeepers seeing, we'll have supper for our whole bunk! It's been so long since I've had turkey..."

Timber takes a nervous look around to see if any peacekeepers are watching them, - momentarily, he has a vision of a white visor appearing from behind a dead pine tree before the apparition vanishes into the darkness - then nods firmly. "I'll break its neck when you stun it."

The boys lunge for the turkey, and make quick work of ending its life. Only flecks of blood are left on the path when they're finished with the bird, the bright red liquid staining a stone lying on the path that Gary had kicked aside.

It wobbles in the wind, then rolls into the underbrush.

All that's left on the lonely path is a spot of blood.

 **Magnolia Rosa-Tran, 18  
** **District Seven Female**

The Rosa's backyard is in a state of catastrophe.

Lee can count at least three of her brothers loading her bed onto the large cart that they're using to bring her belongings to the new house, while the fourth of them, little Pine, is squealing while bringing a few of Lee's books to the cart. He stumbles over a stone in the path leading from her back door to the road that the cart is resting on and skins his knee, a fading scab on the knee in question ripping open and letting blood drip down. She hears him scream in pain and anger, then takes a step to comfort him before stopping. No, she can't be comforting him and picking him up when she's going to have a baby. She has to look after herself, not her brothers.

But first, she can at least help him up.

Pine's sobs slow to a steady trickle as Lee brushes away tears, kissing his leg right above the bloody scab in question. "There now, you're going to be just fine. Ask Mom for the bandage wrap to keep the cut protected, and you'll be back to normal in the next few days. When you go to school, you'll look just like a pirate or a warrior with that bandage? Isn't that fun, Pine?"

"Yeah!" Pine exclaims, a stick suddenly appearing in his hand for the little boy to wave around like a sword. "I'm the strongest man in the world!"

Lee bites her lip to stop herself from smirking, ruffling her brother's hair. "Now, go find Mom, little warrior. And remember not to yell inside the house. Mom wants you to use your indoor voice, right? Can you give me your indoor voice?"

"I'll be quiet!" Pine yells before putting a finger to his lips. "Quiet as a mouse, Lee!" He scampers off with the stick still in his hand and his pain forgotten. Lee shakes her head in amusement before walking slowly towards the cart, wincing and clutching her stomach as a wave of nausea comes over her. She's five months along, but periodically, the morning sickness that had been so prevalent in the last few months comes back to tease her. She'll certainly be happy to get through the next few months and have this little boy.

"Hurry up Lee, you have to leave! Tim and his Dad are waiting for you!" John waves from the cart where Deuce is holding the reins of the horse they borrowed from the Trans, and where Linden is struggling to push the bed fully onto the cart. John turns around and just barely manages to help Linden push the bed onto the cart, right above the rest of her most precious. Lee nods and walks hurriedly towards the cart, before reminding herself to slow down and make sure not to fall. Mom's warned her about stillborns resulting from falls in the later months of pregnancies. She can't lose the baby.

Especially when they've just started to kick.

Right on cue, her unborn child kicks her with a flutter of their foot, and she rubs her stomach with a large smile. It's been strange at first to feel this life inside of her, this… _thing_ so dependent on her for survival, but she's grown to love every time the baby kicks.

She wants to be a good mother.

As she climbs onto the back of the cart, Deuce kicks her heel against the side of the horse and the large animal huffs in annoyance, surging forwards before moving into a canter. Lee kicks her heels in the air as the horse continues his canter towards her new home, Deuce gleefully holding the reins while trying to brush her long brown hair out of her face. Lee looks at Deuce and sighs, turning around to yell at her. "Rose, you know there are such things as buns for hair."

"Why would you need that when you can let your hair be free and wild?" yells back Deuce as she expertly manuevres the horse off of the road. Lee shakes her head and closes her eyes, feeling the bump that's just starting to emerge on her stomach. It's a strange feeling to know that her baby is under there.

She hopes that by the time her child comes, she'll be ready for them.

She will. After all, Tim will be there to help. He won't be leaving her all alone, trapped with her child. She's known Tim for years, slept with him, and now she's married to him for better or for worse. Even if they didn't initially intend to spend the rest of their lives together, they both know that they won't leave each other. They're too loyal.

Deuce stops the horse just under a maple tree in the small backyard and hops off, running to the back of the cart to help Lee off. In the corner of her eye, she can see the boys gasping as they sprint down the road to get to the house and help unload her things. "Thank you, Rose."

"No problem." Deuce grabs a bag of Lee's clothes and hurries ahead of her, knocking on the door until Tim and his father open it for her. "The blushing bride is here at last!"

Tim laughs and waves to Lee, who flushes and rubs her arm. Tim's father walks over to her and helps her up the few stairs to the door, waving at Tim and Deuce to get out of the way. "And how is my daughter-in-law? I hope you're still stretching in the mornings and eating your vegetables. The more of that you do, the easier the labour will be."

"Yeah, every morning." Mr. Tran smiles and Lee grins back at him, happy that she's been routinely doing those at six in the morning. A look to her side shows Tim watching her with a protective look in his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as he waits for Deuce to move past him with the bag of clothing.

She smiles, the bright emotion dancing on her lips before she moves in closer to be inside this circle of strength, this circle that they've formed for one another.

Yes, she'll be just fine.

She just has to take one step after another, and everything will go right.

The smile flits around her mouth for just another second, then vanishes as quickly as the bright-red sun in the sky sets.

 **A/N: Another chapter! It's been a bit, but I have had exams over the past week and a bit, so that wasn't very fun :/ but I did well! And it's a new term! New beginnings! Not for this SYOT, though, which is just beginning :DD I'm hoping to finish the intros by the end of February, so that's the overlying goal! Cheer me on!**

 **How did you like these two? Say something about them because I love reviews, and so on and so forth, yadda yadda yadda. You know what to do.**

 **I have a new SYOT out! Caveat Lector! I may have mentioned it before, but still go submit :D It's gonna be fun!**

 **And that's all I have for you. Hope you all are doing well, and I'm excited to get into District Eight and say we're 2/3rds through the reapings! Anyways, that's all I got. Go review and do what you need to, and I'll see you then. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	11. District Eight Intros: The Dead and Gone

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

The papers have been discarded on a table at the edge of her room, but Carameuse hasn't forgotten the words on them at all. Hart has informed her that the girl who gave them to him was in room 203, so she'll be heading to room 204 to check on the man who had dropped these papers in the hallway. And if she's lucky… well, she might have caught the man behind the Panem Day murders.

She's not sure if she should feel nervous, apprehensive, or gleeful, but only a feeling of unsettlement is wrapping itself around her sweater-covered shoulders. Is this the right guy? Is her hunch correct? Or is this just a misunderstanding, some weird guy who likes collecting bits of information and has accidentally stumbled onto the phrase that Ember has censored from the nation ever since Panem Day?

Someone knocks on her door and she rises to answer, stumbling over a footstool that she carelessly left out in the open last night to rest her feet. She should have put it away, she knows that, but she's been feeling tired today. If anyone asked her to do some serious work after this, she'd need a cold glass of iced tea and whiskey in order to push herself to go finish it. Right now, she just wants to curl up on her red velvet couch and watch some silly, inane Capitol show until her ears are tired enough and her eyes are deadened enough to send her off to bed.

But duty calls, and she'll be damned if she doesn't answer it.

The door reveals nothing but a flat pad with a shiny screen that makes her realize that Fiammetta must have sent it for correspondence. She picks up the tray with the pad and closes the door, but not before looking around to see if she can spot whoever brought it to her. It wouldn't hurt for her to know if she has a few more allies on this train. But her weathered eyes show nothing, and she closes the door carefully before sitting down on the couch and turning the screen on. Up pops a berated image of Fiammetta, her red hair faded on the strangely low-quality footage.

"Carameuse, I'll be coming soon. I've made a few public appearances that you might have caught if you've been watching the national channel -" Carameuse takes this moment to curse, she hasn't been watching any news streams on the train thus far, "and we haven't met with any strange occurrences. I've made a decision, and I'm going to be on the train by the time it hits District Seven."

"No!" Carameuse claps a hand over her mouth when she hears Fiammetta's decision, her hands shaking slightly in terror. No, this isn't a good decision, she has barely had any time to scope out the train and there's definitely at least one threat aboard. She won't find them before Fiammetta boards the train.

She'll have to get in contact right after inspecting the room that Hart told her about.

She stumbles against an avox while she walks towards room 203, and nods her apologies to the man before continuing to hurry towards the room. When she reaches the door, she tests the knob and it opens without a hitch. Inside is a plethora of papers, all of them bearing graphs and charts and all sorts of things that her eyes feast on instantly.

 _Jackpot._

At least, that's what she thinks before she feels something hit her head and then everything goes black.

 **Tristan Locke, 18  
** **District Eight Male**

He shifts uncomfortably on the small, dull green plastic chair that he's been given to sit on in the examining room by the peacekeepers on duty. On one side of the room is a light blue wall, which he's already punched to find out that it's just padding protecting the concrete wall behind it, and the other side is a sheet of bulletproof glass that a few peacekeepers are glimpsing through to watch him. Some whisper to each other, trying to veil their words by putting a hand beside their mouths as they turn to each other and ask who the boy in a ripped sweatshirt and with the insignia of the Locke factory on his sleeve is, and why in Panem he's handcuffed to the table with legs bolted to the floor.

Tristan smirks at those watching him, fiddling with his cuffs to see if he can't unlock them with his nails. But his fingers, bitten to the quick from the stressful past weeks, prove to be of no use on the lock keeping him stuck in this room. Groaning, he looks at the small door that's firmly locked until the therapist comes in to question him.

Staring at the wall, he tries to forget everything that he's seen in the past few hours. But the blood, the bullets, the _death_ just keeps flooding back.

 _Ellis slams her fist down onto the table, her mouth twitching as she gives a dark glare to the rest of the teens scattered around the room. "So you're just going to stay home? Stay home? After all we've done to prepare for this, all of those explosives set up, all of that freedom that you're going to waste? You're wasting months of your lives if you just walk out now. Just because one peacekeeper saw Chiffon put up a poster doesn't mean they know about the rebellion. It doesn't mean that they know."_

" _I'm not frightened," Chiffon says from the back of the room. Tristan smiles gratefully to his friend, stepping next to Ellis as Chiffon makes his way to the front. "And you shouldn't be either. If we do this well, we'll free Eight. We'll be safe!"_

" _You're quite brave," Tristan remarks as they walk out of the room. "Mother would be surprised that you have the gumption to speak up like that after such a close call. She always thinks you're a vagrant or something."_

" _I'm scared half to death, Tristan." Chiffon shudders and pulls his thin, dark jacket around his skinny shoulders. "But it's about how you deal with the fear that makes you brave."_

"And how are you dealing with the incident?" Tristan snaps his head up to see a tall, thin figure illuminated in the harsh white light of the interrogation room. "It must be difficult to see so many that you know, respect and care about die. Even if they're known rebels. Like you, Tristan Locke."

"You know _nothing,_ " he spits back at the woman, glaring with all of his might. He doesn't care if he's thrown in jail, shot, or hung. He doesn't care anymore.

About anything.

The woman patiently sprays her glasses with a cleaning fluid that appears in little droplets on the glasses, wipes them with a thin white cloth that she produced from her shirt pocket, then sits down to face Tristan. "I'm Emmeline Gorgerat, commissioned by the Capitol to interrogate prisoners. They ask me to do this because they realize it's easier getting someone to speak when they're talking with one of their own."

She lifts her pant leg and reveals a small cuff fastened around her ankle, a bright red light flashing on and off in the centre of the black cuff. "I was imprisoned for fraud and treason against the mayor. But my qualifications in psychology have allowed me this position. I know how it feels, Tristan, to be all alone like this. But if you promise to not to do anything rash, as well as wear an anklet whenever you leave the house, you'll be free to go with no repercussions. The Capitol doesn't want you to be viewed as a martyr figure for the rebels, henceforth the anonymity of the whole situation. Would you like your parents to be notified?"

"No!" he blurts out before he can even think, shaking his head frantically. "I'm not letting them know. Please don't tell them, I'll hide the anklet from them, I'll hide everything! Just don't let them know. I can't let… I can't let that happen. Please."

The woman shrugs, folding her glasses and putting them back into her shirt pocket. "As you wish. It's not our concern over whether your parents know about this or not. As long as you follow the Capitol's instruction, telling your parents is completely up to you. Even if they'd like to know what their son, heir to the Locke fortune and set to manage their factories in a good ten years, is up to these days."

She tosses Tristan the anklet, who puts it on with a weary sigh. "Be good. You're free to go."

But before she leaves, she drops a piece of paper on the floor and closes the door without saying a word. Tristan picks it up and follows after her, common courtesy pushing him to return the paper, but then he sees what's written on it.

 _Anklet bugged. Be careful what you say._

He crumples up the paper and shoves it into his pocket, nodding to the peacekeepers who had hovered around the glass barrier and walking through the dark halls quickly. When he reaches the glass doors that lead out to the outside world, he starts to run. Ignoring the specks of blood on the sidewalk that cleaners are scrubbing away - blood from the rebellion this morning.

Blood from his friends.

Blood from his compatriots.

Blood from Chiffon.

He stops when he reaches his home, the vast mansion stretching out around the outskirts of Eight. But the splendours of the Locke mansion are lost on Tristan.

He's busy deciding how to best avenge the dead and the gone.

 **Desdemona Steen, 15  
** **District Eight Female**

She wipes the glass window with a rough cloth, making sure to get rid of every dirt stain from the now-gleaming windows. She just wants to do her job well. She wants people to appreciate what she does for them.

At least, until she's sick again.

Behind her, rows upon rows of densely packed crates are stacked upon each other, tiny silkworms bustling in and out of the mulberry leaves that she tosses into the crates every day. The dark, wooden crates are a stark image against the gleaming windows, which let light into the growing area, the whole room teeming with silkworms. But she's not supposed to be gawking at them all day. She should be getting on with her work.

She walks through the first rows of crates, looking for any mishaps amongst the insects. Sure enough, row three shows quite a few shrivelled corpses of silkworms, only a few still alive to serenely hop over their dead comrades to feast on the mulberry leaves. She shrugs and brushes them all into the bag to throw away, not caring about how they died. Maybe the leaves weren't good enough for them, or maybe something else was at play. But even if they were diseased, she'd move the crate into a corner where it couldn't let any silkworms move to other crates to spread anything like pébrine or flacherie. But when she looks closer, she sees the brown spots on larvae in the crate and shakes her head. It's pébrine for sure.

She picks up the crate and heads to the end of the growing house, but then she sees Emilia and her mother walk into the aisle, a case

"Emilia, we've got a case of pébrine in the third row," she calls before coughing fiercely, her throat aflame while she tries to touch her head. The crate of silkworms falls out of her hands and the corpses and live worms fall to the floor, the mulberry leaves spilling onto the floor. But all she can feel is the burning of her throat, a tendril of smoke in the air clogging it, closing it, _shutting it…_

She can't breathe.

Then the air comes back and she takes a deep breath, her throat still burning from the sensation. She can feel the first twinges of pain on the sides of her head, right next to the temples. She's sick again.

Emilia rushes over and rushes to put on a pair of gloves, picking up the leaves and silkworms to put them back into the flat crate. "What happened, Mona? What's wrong?"

Mona coughs, a sickly groan coming from her throat. "Oh, I'm sick again. It _always_ happens, Emilia. Why can't it go away? I just need to go to bed again, where I seem to be for most of the year." She gives a hefty sigh but her friend pays no attention to her despondency, fiddling with the cochlear hearing aid right next to her ear.

Emilia snickers and taps a gloved finger on her head right next to the hearing aid, shaking it firmly. "I'm not going to let you continue to moan about everything, moaning Mona. You know the rule, whenever you start falling into another wave of self-pity I turn the hearing aid off." Her words are understandably clunky and forced, a result of not being able to hear herself speak, but Mona gets the point. She sighs and nods her head, trying to ignore the migraine while picking up the remainder of the silkworm catastrophe.

"I do need to go home, though," she says as she picks up the crate and carries it towards the corner where she had intended for it to go in the first place. "I feel really bad. Like, _really_ bad. This is one of the bad migraines. I think I might have that stupid flu again, especially since I pu-"

"Too much information!" cries Emilia, putting two hands to her hearing aids. "I don't need to know what happened last night. I'll tell Mom that you need to go home, just don't explain it to me in detail. The last time you told me about the chunky stuff that you puked into the toilet or something, _I_ had to to vomit as well. You're too much for my squeamish stomach, Mona. Now go. Go! You don't need to stay around here any longer and breathe in the smoke from the smoke devices we have for the… _boxes_ behind the factory."

Mona nods, turning to walk out of the green doors that were so recognizable from the distance, from her own home when she looked at the growing houses. She doesn't need to see exactly how many illegal beehives that the Laces had behind the growing houses in order to sell honey on the black market. The less she knows about that little operation, the less she'll be able to tell to any peacekeepers who may hear about the operation and bust it, wanting the tax money from the honey to go to the Capitol instead of just in the Laces pockets. No, she wouldn't tell. After all, the Laces supply honey to her own family.

As she shrugs off the slippers that she wears in the factory and puts on her own running shoes, she looks to see her house in the distance. Beyond it are the factories, churning out smoke that billows over this section of District Eight and increases her headache. Even now, she can feel her throat tightening in the smoggy air. It's not asthma, the six doctors she has been to have confirmed that, it's just that she has a bad immune system and the bout of pneumonia she had when she was eight has made her vulnerable to the smog ever since. Even when she works here, far away from the poisonous smog that ruins her immune system, she still gets sick every few weeks from some sickness or another. Maybe it's the flu again this time, but she doesn't really care what exactly is causing her to be stuck in bed.

She knows that she's going to wither away until she's a shell of her former self.

And then, she'll be as hollow as those silkworm corpses. Her skin will be as gray as their bodies, her eyes will be as cloudy as their silk, and her skin will be hard to the touch.

And she'll be dead and gone.

 **A/N: And that's finally another intro! Sorry I took this long, but it's been hard for me to keep up, especially since I've started my second semester and have been hit somewhat hard with the workload. But I'm pushing through it, and here's the next chapter for all of you to enjoy! I'm sure glad it's over XD**

 **What do you think of these two? btw, Mona is chronically sick if you're confused. You'll see more as this continues, but feel free to be satisfied with that explanation if you were overthinking her pov XD I hope you liked this two, as well as the next continuation of the Carameuse saga!**

 **It'd be nice if you'd do everything I hope for you to do, like review and such. Always nice to see your thoughts on the tributes!**

 **Anyways, that's all I got for you. I still have the goal of finishing the intros by the end of February, which could take a lot of writing, but I am determined! Let's see if I can't at least get District Nine out before March :P Wish me luck! Until my attempt to get there, TheAmazingJAJ**


	12. District Nine Intros: In Cold Blood

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

"It was a careless avox that knocked you unconscious," the nurse explains as she bandages the side of Carameuse's head and uses a cloth to wipe away the dried blood that pooled on her neck, the blood that had flowed out of the wound while she had remained on the floor until the frantic avox found someone to help Carameuse's limp body up and to the nurse. "They were just trying to bring a tray of cold drinks to one of the rooms in Car Two, and they bumped into you when they tripped over a fold in the carpeting. From what I've heard, they've been replaced with another avox. I hope that makes you feel a bit better about the whole thing, especially considering the fact that you were out for the count for all of District Ten. I'm horribly sorry about the whole thing, and you've been given a free card that lets you buy anything you want for no price at all. I hope that can start to even begin making up for this whole mess."

"No, no, that's fine," Carameuse says hoarsely as she struggles to sit up on the cushioned counter that she's been lying on. "I feel a bit better now that it's been stitched up. Would I be able to travel to Nine tomorrow along with the rest of the passengers?"

"My, my, you are persistent!" the nurse laughs while helping Carameuse up. "I can't let you off of this train today, but you'll be able to visit Eight at the next stop. Again, we all send our apologies for this dreadful mistake."

Carameuse waves her away and grabs a pack of ice, trying to stop her throbbing headache from getting much worse. "I suppose I'll be held hostage in here for today."

"That is correct." The nurse bustles around the other end of the compartment, searching through bottles of pills before she makes a little cry of delight from the bottom of her throat and swerves around to hand a bottle to Carameuse. "This will help with the headache."

She fills up a glass of water and Carameuse takes it gratefully, downing the water and the pills before swallowing. As soon as she does, the cold sensation of water running down her throat distracts her from the pain, and as she savours the feeling, she realizes that her headache is starting to vanish like that. "It works like a miracle, doesn't it?"

"Specially ordered from the best pharmaceutists!" the nurse says cheerfully, opening the door and turning to walk out. She looks back at Carameuse and smiles with a look that Carameuse interprets to be one of pity. "I hope you don't mind if you're here by yourself for a bit. I have to check with another passenger who has a nasty case of the flu."

Carameuse nods and waits for the nurse to return, her headache nearly gone. It feels like she focuses so much on other things, she hasn't realized how great Capitol medicine is.

Maybe it's because she surrounds with people that Capitol technology can't bring back.

 **Emma von Hapsburg, 17  
** **District Nine Female**

Outside her window, white and blue spider-thin lines of frost running up the side of the glass pane, snow is falling.

"Supper's ready!" calls her father, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting up the staircase to her small room. She smiles and traces her finger along the side of the small, light blue book in her hand, the outline of a little girl reaching for a crown on the cover. When she was little, she pretended she was the girl, running around with paper crowns on her head and an imaginary gown fluttering down to her ankles as she ran through the fields of freshly shorn wheat, her father trying his best to break his back with the amount of wheat he carried to the carts.

But she's no princess. She knows that, she's known it for years now. She's not a princess.

Not anymore.

With a hand to the side to hold on to the old wooden bannister, she descends down the staircase and straight into the kitchen, where her father and mother bustle around to steaming ovens and boiling pots of stew to ladle the whole mess onto plates for Emma and Sophia. The dog wanders into the kitchen during the chaos and is promptly shooed out by Emma, who places plates onto the table for her mother while the rest take their seats around the table. Just as quickly as she had arrived, they're all gathered around the table and taking spoonfuls of the bread-bowl stew that her parents had prepared for the night. Emma stirs around the thick liquid and picks up a potato with her spoon, nibbling at the hot potato until she's eaten it all. She purposely leaves alone the few bits of beef that have made it into the stew in the side of the bread bowl, saving them to eat at the end of the meal. Whenever they get even a bit of meat, it's a treat for the whole family.

"How are your foremen?" Mother asks as she starts eating her bread bowl, a few crumbs bouncing down her sharp chin and onto the table. Mother always eats faster than the rest of the family. "I've heard that it's going to be a hard year."

"Eh, we'll survive," Father states bluntly, digging his spoon into the bowl and coming up with a strand of meat.

"But I've heard that this year will be wonderful," Sophia says, twisting a lock of blonde hair around her finger. "Mariano told me himself yesterday when we went to the shops."

"Mariano has too big of a mouth and not enough of a brain." Emma laughs and spoons more stew into her mouth, ignoring the angry looks from her sister. "He's always wrong about these sorts of things, you should know that already."

"He treats me like a princess, like I should be." Sophia sniffs haughtily and stalks away from the table, leaving her bread bowl unfinished. Emma leans over and throws it to the tan and dark coloured dog in the corner, who wags his tail and devours the bread to bits. Sophia never finishes her food, but she's always had the stomach the size of a bird's. Why would she start finishing now?

She and her parents continue eating quietly, ignoring the way Sophia had left the table and the bread Emma had wasted by giving to the dog. She knows that she shouldn't have been that spiteful today, but she just doesn't care. Not when she has news for the family.

A few minutes go by, then Emma begins to speak. "Mother, Father," she begins hesitantly, careful to keep her tone respectful. After all, she doesn't know how they're going to react to this. "I was walking in town a few days ago, and a man came up to me and told me from he was from the Capitol."

"So you just listened to him?" her father sputters, dropping his spoon onto the garnished brown table. "I suppose you'll be running away into your own little fairy tale with him tomorrow. You can't believe every knight in shining armour, Emma. You should know better."

"No, no," she protests, shaking her head. Her dirty-blonde hair comes close to flopping into her soup, but she tucks it back and continues to speak. "He's shown me a business card, he has the official passport and a stamp from the Capitol and everything. I made sure to check with a peacekeeper afterwards. He's apparently really big in the Capitol, from what I've been told. And he offered me a..."

She pauses, waiting a moment to increase the tension. When she knows she has the attention of both of her parents, she takes the plunge. "He's offering me a modelling contract, Mom. I could help out, here, Dad! I can support you and we can get a little closer to what we formerly were!"

"I'll hear nothing of this contract," her mother sniffs, stirring her soup and taking sips without looking at Emma. "You know who walks down catwalks for Capitolites? Hookers do, my dear. You're not a hooker, are you?"

"But that's not what it is!" Emma bursts out, her excitement under her skin already replaced by liquid rage. She's good at getting angry. "I'm not a hooker, mother! I'll just be modelling clothes!"

"With less and less clothing to wear every time," her father adds. "Your sister has tried this already, Emma. Modelling takes girls like you nowhere. Why don't you do something ambitious, like entering law? That would give you your royal dream."

"You don't have to demonize everything I do!" Emma shouts, pushing back her chair and stomping away from the table. Her parents don't look worried, but calmly continue to eat as she slams the door and heads outside. For people who are so eager to forget they're ancestors of pre-Dark Days royalty, from a whole other _continent_ for crying out loud, they sure eat like they're dining with a queen.

Her breathing slows as she walks further away from the house and onto the road, the falling snow sparkling from the light coming from her home. She smiles and twirls around as she watches the dancing lights of the snow, taking a breath before closing her eyes and letting herself fall back onto her back. Then she opens her eyes and stares at the stars, which gleam all the brighter in the light of the snow.

Maybe she doesn't need a stage to walk on after all. She has her snow, her fields, her own walkway that's just as beautiful as a Capitol building in it's own right.

It's fit for a princess.

 **Ezra Winfield, 13  
** **District Nine Male**

"Why do I have to go to bed so early?"

"Can't I stay outside a little longer?"

"Do I really have to go to school tomorrow?"

Ezra tests these questions against his mother, each one met by an equally firm no from the woman. She escorts Ezra through the hallway and into his room, blue wallpaper adorning the walls and peeling off in the corner close to his window. "You know you're not going back out to play detective or something, Ezra. You're going to school tomorrow, and that's final. Can't you focus on something that actually is beneficial to your future tonight? You know you have a test. Now sleep, or I'll have to get your father in here to convince you otherwise, young man."

Ezra hastily - and rather wisely - shuts up and pulls the covers over his head, waiting for his mother to leave before letting out a fake snore. Mom might be his greatest ally in education, but she just doesn't understand what it's like to search for crime. Not like Uncle Norbert.

A few minutes pass by, and Ezra peeks out of his doorway to see if his mother is still watching him. Her back is to him as she sits in a rocking chair in their small living room and starts to knit something, muttering about their neighbour's new baby and how they need clothes. Shouldn't the neighbour be the one to make their own clothes for the new baby, not Mom? But he pushes that question away in favour of his mission and closes his door, silent as a mouse.

The next few minutes are occupied by quiet searching for clothes to stuff under his sheets, Ezra soon finding enough clothes to make the shape of a thirteen-year-old boy who's too curious for his own good. He smiles and tucks the clothes under his top sheet, then carefully walks to the window, careful to avoid the spot right next to the dresser where the floor creaks. He unlatches the window and ever-so-slowly lifts it up, only stopping when it's high enough for him to latch it to the rope he attached to the ceiling yesterday and stay up for him to squeeze through. He can't bring it back down when he jumps into the cold night and grabs the brown loafers he hid in a bush, but that's no serious matter. After all, he has to have a way to get back inside when he's finished.

He takes a look to the road and sees one of the trucks that peacekeepers use to drive around the district, quickly making a round of the town to make sure that everyone's inside after curfew. But instead of heading to the road, he pulls down his sleeves, makes sure that his socks are high enough to not get any ticks onto his skin, then takes off his glasses and seats them firmly on the bridge of his nose before diving into the field of wheat. He'll find crime soon enough. He just has to look around enough.

A mockingjay gives a cry of delight as he makes his way through these endless fields of grain, flying over his head and into the night. Funny, there aren't often mockingjays in the fields. They tend to stick to the small patches of stunted forest near the town, searching for food and trying not to be the target of a hungry teen with a homemade slingshot. "Why would a mockingjay be in the fields?" he mutters to make it stick in his head. "I hope that it isn't because it lost its nest."

But the mockingjay has vanished, and with it, any sign of life in these fields. Only the moon is left in Ezra's view, the moon and the stars. "An ode to the moon, my friend in the night, your cream-coloured faces smiling so bright," he whispers, the old school poem that he learned when he was five rattling around in his brain. Most of the time, he talks to himself to make things stick. But he's trying to flush this one out, get it away from his productive thoughts so that he can continue focusing on the case. "Whether quarter, a crescent, waning or full face, watch down on us all, from your orbit in space."

He laughs again continues to walk, the childish poem out of his mind. He had memorized the phases of the moon long before the teachers had ever tried to get it to stick in every one of his classmate's heads, yet he was the only one to actually remember how the poem went.

Funny how the mind works, isn't it?

But his mind is still thinking about the broach Mrs. Gladstone told him she had lost the other day, the ruby facets of the broach glimmering in his mind. He saw Missy Amarinth play with something sparkly yesterday, but she had ran into Victor's Village and hid somewhere where he couldn't find her before coming back without the object - mainly because his mother had yelled at him to hurry up and get home before dinner had cooled down, and he had watched her walk out with nothing in her hands as he hurried home. But as he steps out of the field and looks at the twelve large houses that make up Victor's Village, he gives a little smirk.

Missy can't hide the broach forever.

He starts looking near the woodpile closest to him, the moon shining down on his glasses as he looks for the broach. Minutes pass by, but he's still looking around the woodpile, then moves to another house and looks around the bushes, then -

The glimmer of something shiny surprises him, and he moves closer. When he gets to the path that the object is on, he sees the ruby in the middle of the broach and lets out a whoop, snatching up the broach and jumping in delight. Victory is his!

He stumbles when he lands and falls on his back, his glasses skittering away towards the house where he had found the broach. He sighs and gets on his hands and knees to look for the glasses, carefully feeling everywhere to make sure he doesn't miss them. First he feels something dry yet sticky, and frowns as he keeps looking around for it. Probably someone dropped a candy bar there and it dried in the sun, or something else. It's none of his concern -

His groping hands touch flesh, then he shouts and pushes away from the object. He finds his glasses in the grass as he moves away, but he has to take a second to slow his breathing, put on the wire-rimmed glasses, and properly see Falcon Jacobs lying prone on the ground.

But when Ezra touches his neck hesitantly, scarcely daring to think that the victor may be dead, he realizes something else.

 _Falcon's still breathing._

 **A/N: Another finished district! Hurray! I'm too happy about finally getting out another chapter XD**

 **Anyways, here's District Nine! The povs aren't a few weeks before the reapings, Ezra is a few weeks after Panem Day (can you guess why? XD) and Emma's is somewhere in March. I sure hope you liked them! It might sound silly, but I feel like I did pretty well with these two. I hope y'all think the same XD**

 **If you have questions about these two, you'll find them in the train rides and the Capitol. Don't worry, these two still have a few layers to dig through. I really enjoyed writing them!**

 **Anyways, that's all I got for you. Let's see if I'll manage to get another chapter out soon, especially since we're pretty close to the end of the reapings! I'm really excited to get there :DDD Have a great day, it'd be fun to see some of your reviews - of course I want to see some, ignore my begging XD - and let's do this! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	13. District Ten Intros: A Thousand Acres

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

It's a slow walk down from the train and into District Ten, but she soon makes it into the main town of Ten and heads towards the home of the designated mentor.

A girl named Ashton, she was suspect for disappearing from her home occasionally and keeping strange hours in Ten, always found in parts of Panem where she shouldn't be. If she wasn't a Capitolite from a wealthy family, she would straight out be reprimanded, but Ashton is from one of the prominent families in the upper section of the Capitol. So Carameuse has been sent to question her instead, to keep the fact that she's being suspected for the Panem Day activities quiet.

Jo Lycoris walks alongside Carameuse to Ashton's house on the outskirts of the town, keeping up a string of chatter along the way. "Panem, I haven't seen Ashton in ages! It's been years since I was in District Ten, before I was transferred to District Nine. Of course, I adore District Nine and the beauty of the fields. Just look at my outfits!"

Carameuse looks over at Jo, and surely enough, the escort is wearing a charming little grain-themed outfit with stalks of wheat acting as a ribbon around their large straw hat.

Jo grins and curtsies for Carameuse, walking in long heels and ripped jeans to the mild surprise of the detective. A bold fashion choice. "I wonder how the poor girl is doing. Panem, she's always hungry for some fun, especially in a starved little place such as this. All the children I've seen need some more weight on their bones. If they lived in Nine, they'd be able to pack it on with the carbs, but they're here instead. And more's the pity..."

Carameuse pleasantly tunes Jo out and continues to walk alongside the road, a tractor making its way around the barren fields and sowing seeds for the coming summer. Summer's coming closer, and Carameuse can feel it in the warm air of Ten. It's the southernmost district of Panem, after all. It's always warm down here.

Soon she and Jo reach the house and Carameuse knocks on the door, waiting for Ashton to answer. A panicked "coming!" is heard from the other side of the house and Ashton soon opens the door, a bathrobe thrown around her tattooed shoulders. "Anything you need - Jo!"

Carameuse spots a couple of twenty-somethings in the background making out on a large couch, easy listening music softly playing behind them through a set of speakers. And then it all makes sense to her, and she hides back a chortle as Jo gives Ashton a firm hug. "Ashton! It's good to see you! How have you been, how are you doing?"

They disappear into the house and close the door, and Carameuse doesn't bother to chase after them. After all, she can laugh about how wrong her suspicions were out here. It all makes sense now, the disappearances, the random visits, it's all the result of a twenty-something feeling too pent up in her fancy house and ready to get wild.

One more person to erase from her list.

 **Callous Lecket, 17  
** **District Ten Male**

He slips over the barbed wire fence that he and his father had erected last year to keep the sheep in their pastures and walks with a small pack of food and water to the lambs of the flock, their white, wooly faces bleating angrily as two butt heads repeatedly. He grimaces as one falls down from impact then jumps back to their feet, raring to fight with its companions.

The older lambs are always testing their own strength in the spring, their legs strengthening as they begin to mature into full grown adults. Meanwhile, the baby lambs, born in the past three months, are finding their own feet and learning first how to walk, then run through the green fields behind his home. He used to love watching the little lambs run into each other and bleat cries of excitement as they race back to their mothers, hungry for milk.

That was before he found out that they would be slaughtered in a few months.

He sits down on a pile of rocks near the edge of the pasture and begins to settle down into the mass of large boulders, finding a comfortable spot to lean back and watch the sheep graze on the fresh spring grass. There's a small, wet pile of hay in the middle of the fields, left over from the winter feed that Callous had helped to feed the sheep when snow still covered the ground. The sheep ignored it as soon as the first tips of grass poked through the snow, scraping the ice and snow with their hooves to get to the grass and clovers that they loved to feed on. So the rest of the wet hay sits in the fields, waiting patiently to be eaten by disinterested sheep, other than the few lambs who totter over to poke at the hay with their noses before running back to their mothers to nurse.

But there is no snow in the fields, only a vast stretch of green grass, clovers, flowers, and thorns, decorated with the stone fences that had been built decades before Callous was born. Some whispered that they had been there long before the Dark Days, before even the first ruler of Panem, but the elder population of Ten declared that the stone fences had been built by their ancestors to merely fence in the sheep and cattle. So the rumours that some stone fences had been built before Panem itself were forced to only emerge during nights by a bonfire, where fathers and mothers would tell their children the rich history of Panem.

At least, that was what he had been told by his peers at school what happened. Father and Mother didn't like bonfires, and his older brother had been too focused on moving away from the farm and to the city to ever make a bonfire with Callous. Not that it mattered anyway.

Callous sighs and keeps watching the sheep roam, a stray tear rolling down his cheek for the memories that he had missed. He wipes it away slowly, letting the smear stay on his cheek. It's a smudge of wet grime and dust, clashing with the rest of his relatively clean, olive skinned face. He fingers small facial hairs dotting the bottom of his chin, looking out at the sheep. Tears don't matter when no one can see him cry, when no one can hear him sob except the sheep and the setting sun on the horizon.

Sometimes it feels like he's the only person here.

Callous doesn't like to be alone.

He props up his knees close to his chest and yawns, his green eyes starting to shut in the warm breezes of May. He's felt tired for the last few years, in a strange way that isn't from staying up all night, but from a quiet misery that nags at him whenever he tries to do something. It's always with him, trying to drag him out of a good mood, reminding him that he doesn't matter anyway when life is so easily taken from the smallest of things, like the lambs grazing right in front of him.

Most of the time, the misery wins.

He becomes semi-alert when he hears pebbles fall off of the stone fence and onto the grass, a sheep bleating in alarm and herding the lambs away from the eastern side of the field. Callous grabs his pack and searches through it for the knife that his father gives him while watching the lambs. It's in the bag in case some starving families from the slum villages close to their farm try to steal a lamb or sheep. The Leckets are better off than most of the residents in this part of the country, and Herd Lecket wants to keep it that way.

But when he sees the strange glint of a wolf's eyes behind the fence, the sunset shining on its silver fur, he knows that the knife has a second purpose.

A primal roar rises out of his chest and he charges at the wolf, waving the knife in the air. The silver blade arcs down and towards the wolf, and the canine yelps with alarm before retreating behind the stone fence. Panting, Callous catches his breath. The knife is still by his side, and when he has enough air in his lungs, he raises it and slashes it through the air. He knows the wolf is watching. He'll show it who has the upper hand.

The wolf seems to nod in submission before turning its head and disappearing back into the fields, back to the forests that are at the very edge of Ten. The wolves that roamed the edges of Ten and the nightmares of farmers didn't come this far into Ten for food, but this one must have either been cocky or desperate.

Perhaps it was both.

Callous turns back to the flock and his spirit sags, the lambs still frolicking through the fields. Most don't know that they had nearly escaped death to be killed in a few months instead. He cried when he saw a lamb killed and skinned by his father for the first time, and more tears roll down his cheeks as he watches the sheep play.

He doesn't want to think about the lambs anymore. He doesn't want to feel anything.

His quiet misery is safer than sorrow.

 **Ceres Hemlock, 17  
** **District Ten Female**

The birds flock around her small window, chirping greedily for the small scraps of bread crusts that she was finishing off from her sandwich. Ceres looks up and flicks a piece of lettuce off of her teeth, grinning at the birds. "Not today, swallows. This one's all for me, especially when you already got your fill of seeds that we didn't use last week when we planted the garden."

She polishes off the last bit of her ham sandwich, hopping down from the window sill and hurrying towards her door. She tugs on worn but durable blue sneakers as she moves towards the door, opening the gold-painted knob and walking out of the room. "Mom, what's for dinner?"

"Dinner's in six hours, Ceres! It was lunch an hour ago!" her mother replies. Her voice sounds strained. "You know that I hate being asked about these things before I start doing them, dear. Please go outside and help your brother with the chores that you neglected while sitting up in your room."

Ceres sighs, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at her mother. Instead, she grabs a jacket from the closet right next to the door. It's bright yellow and ugly, a garish colour that she had accepted when they went shopping last winter for cheap but durable rain jackets. After all, they have to make ends meet somehow. And even if that means that she has to give up a few things for the good of the family, she will.

But she won't give up her time alone.

She watches the birds flock around the barn as Miller begins to pull sacks of corn and seeds from the barn, his cheeks bright red as he drags them to the garden. "Augh, where's District Nine and Eleven when you need them?"

Ceres shakes her head and grabs one of the sacks of corn from Miller, walking towards the garden as her little brother tries to pull the other three bags into the garden through sheer will. "Miller, that won't work like you think it will. If you used the wheelbarrow, perhaps, but dragging it will only cause you to go slower. See? I'm already here with mine, and by the time you get to the garden I'll have grabbed another from you."

Miller sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry as Ceres collects a second bag of seeds, throwing it over her shoulder and walking towards the garden. "Told you so. If there's any more of these, you should just use the wheelbarrow to get them here in one go."

"Kindly shut up," Miller says with annoyance, hauling the last two bags into the garden and piling them on the ones that Ceres had brought to the garden. "I'll do it next time, alright? And you don't have to help me anymore. I don't have any other chores, because I finished them all while you sat in your room."  
"I did them all yesterday," Ceres reminded as she took off the yellow jacket and folded it nicely. "It's only fair that you did them today."

"Fair doesn't matter when we have to finish the garden by tomorrow," Miller grumbles. "Have fun in town with your friends, I guess. I'm going fishing with Abel at the pond."

Ceres looks down the lane and giggles. The small but stocky appearance of Miller's best friend is in the distance, carrying two fishing rods as he hurries towards the Hemlock household to collect Miller. She can always tell Abel from Miller's group of friends from his mane of bright blonde hair, the mess of curls and knots looking nearly white in the sunlight. "I think Abel wants to go now, Mill. Better go get your things before he gets here!"

She starts to jog down the lane and waves to Abel as he continues to the small neighbourhood their house was at the forefront of. He smiles politely before speeding up his gait, his shoes muddy and wet from all of the puddles in the lane. The roads in this part of Ten never were paved and the many potholes in the lanes meant that puddles were everywhere. It was hard to walk to town and keep from falling into a puddle, let alone keeping her shoes dry.

The fact that the roads were so poorly maintained was one of the reasons the Capitol gave Panem for the prohibition of vehicles for rural families, citing that their axles and tires would be ruined on the roads of Panem. Cars were for Capitolites and the rich, very rarely being distributed to common citizens of the districts.

Ceres herself had seen a truck in the hands of a farmer once, when her father's friend had borrowed one to transport large amounts of hay to another area of Ten where a fire had left a herd of cattle foodless. She had never gotten the chance to ride it, but it gleamed in the light as it rumbled down the road to the stricken town, scaring a horse and its rider as it did so.

As she enters the town, the faces of her friends came into view near the store. For all of their squabbles, Ceres and Miller were each other's best friends, but she was also close with a few other girls in the neighbourhood. Usually they would go to each other's houses, but Sessile, her closest friend in the group, had suggested that they spend the day out in town. After all, most girls in town would go shopping for reaping dresses at this time, clutching a few meagre sesterces as they hunted for something to wear to what could be the last normal day of their lives.

Ceres steps into the store after the other girls enter, all scattering through the dress-shop to look for their clothes. They would hide it under their beds to keep clean from their regular clothes - working in the fields, especially in spring, caused the people of Ten to nearly breathe mud - but they still wanted something that would fit them well on reaping day. It was a tradition to hunt for a dress in the spring for Reaping Day, started over two decades earlier by their mothers, aunts and cousins. It was comforting to have a tradition for Reaping Day. It made it feel more normal.

Sessile waves Ceres over to a simple olive-green dress, loosely fitted with the fabric falling down on the mannequin to its knees. "I think it would look lovely on you, Ceres. Do you want to buy it?"

Ceres glances at the price tag, her mind pondering how many nights she could work to help sow crops for nearby farmers to afford the dress. After she comes up with a suitable answer, one that she could manage with the rest of her jobs and school, she nods. "I'd love to wear it."

The dress fits snugly on her sides as she tries it on, the thin straps on the top just clinging to her shoulders. She twirls for the mirror in the fitting room, grinning as it spins in the light of the small room. Maybe the dress would give her luck.

She hopes.

 **A/N: A wild JAJ surfaces, looking bedraggled and worried! He's carrying content!**

 **Yes, I'm finally back. It's only been under a year, right? I waited too long to update this story - I've been sitting on this chapter for about four months, but I hesitated to update because I was busy creating a small stockpile to hide behind. I've been foolish and hoped that some of you would stick around long enough to see this - I think a few of you are still here, but I'm sure many are rightfully leaving this story behind because I waited too long. I don't blame you - I would be surprised to see me still here, as well.**

 **But I do have content - over 20K words from having written the remaining intros, the reaping recaps, and the train rides. Y'all have at least five chapters to look forward to in the coming months, and I'm excited to show you all what I have in store. I'll be waiting a few weeks to post District Eleven so I don't make the same mistake as last time and play all of my cards without having enough time to write more. Expect it somewhere around the start of March - March 10th, or before.**

 **To everyone who's decided to stick around, thank you SO MUCH. You are lovely, and I hope I don't let any of you down again.**

 **Enjoy the chapter. Until District Eleven, TheAmazingJAJ.**


	14. District Eleven Intros: The Known World

**Hart Bison, 48  
** **Avox**

Hart is sitting in the back of the avox's car when the train stops in District Eight, the grand tour having skipped over District Nine due to an incident with their lone victor. He hadn't been told much officially, but he'd been informed through whispers that Falcon Jacobs had been found unconscious near his home, and is currently in critical condition in a Capitol hospital.

Carameuse, spending most of the journey from Nine to Eight playing chess with the escorts and observing the other guests on the train as warily as she could, made no comment on the matter. Hart doesn't suspect much of the woman - after all, she is just another Capitolite - but she is certainly odd.

Very odd indeed.

But there was work to be done, as always, and Hart knows what happens to avoxes who slack off on their duties - a rare occurrence, considering that many had been warned of the price of laziness. So instead of worrying about Carameuse or the other guests on the train, he has focused on the most mundane tasks he has to finish. Replace dirty towels and sheets in the rooms of the guests, clean the bathrooms so that they're up to Capitol standards, and serve food to the guests at night.

There are only a few avoxes trained in serving food on the train, so he and the other three take most of the dinner shifts while the others spend the time by cleaning out more rooms. It's a never-ending job, and it's hard to accomplish when the Capitolites rarely leave the train. But soon they'll be in Seven, then Six, and they'll make their way back to the Capitol in no time at all.

If everything goes well, of course.

District Eight passes without much to note. What Hart does see is the smog that engulfs the cities of Eight and leaves dirt stains on the windows of the train. It's gray, thick, and chokes the train in a layer of grime. A few avoxes are sent out to clean the windows, but it's to no avail - the windows get dirty once more, and the train hurriedly leaves District Eight after several Capitolites meet with the mayor and the two victors.

And now the train is almost upon District Seven, pine trees reaching up towards the sky as the train heads through the forests of Seven to reach its main city. Felicia had signed to him that the president was reputed to be waiting there, but Hart still doubts the avox gossip throughout the train. He'll only believe it when he sees the president on the train with his own two eyes.

For now, he works to clean the train, using a polishing cloth to clean the lamps in the dining car. He originally thought of skipping them in favour of helping other avoxes with the guest cars, but he had decided against it.

After all, rumours have a funny way of coming true.

 **Luke Atkinson, 17  
** **District Eleven Male**

He takes a bite out of the strawberry that is tucked into his dirty palm, the berry dripping red juice onto his arm. It's sticky and sweet, something that he wants to clean off this instant. He doesn't like to be sticky. But he can be patient when he needs to, so he'll sit quietly on this stone wall while he waits for the rest of the group to finish up their work.

He shivers in a brisk breeze of the morning, pushing through his dark, cropped hair and into the clear skies of Eleven. From where he's sitting, surrounded by a few other teens his age and some older men and women quickly assembling materials in a pile in front of the ruined wall that they're hiding behind, Eleven looks gorgeous in the sunlight. But that's only because they're sitting in the part where camera crews from the Capitol like to get glamour shots. They like to come here when they shoot for the opening of the Reapings, where the fanciest homes and the Justice Building glimmer from the sunlight hitting the stone that makes up most of Eleven's home, all shot in the haze of the morning air. Behind them are the orchards of Eleven, lush trees filled with all types of fruit for the pickers to pluck from their branches. That's his day job, to climb to the top of the tallest trees and bring down oranges from the orange trees for harvest. He also picks apples, pears, and more, but oranges are his favourite. There's something so satisfying about climbing up the slim tree and grabbing the fruit, rather than the bigger apple and pear trees that are so easy to climb. Orange trees don't just require skill, they require his slim and tall frame as well to ascend.

Of course, he'll never taste the fruits of his labour. The Capitol's whipped many a man for tasting one of the pears or apples they were harvesting in the orchards, and ghost stories are whispered among the labourers at night about how executions in the south of the district have occurred because families dared to take a few apples for their starving children. The Capitol never addressed the open secret that they ruled Eleven with an iron fist, reasoning that families could take tesserae to make up for the frequent food shortages in the district.

That's why he works with the rebels, who are adding touches of paint to the posters they'll spread throughout the long lines of homes behind this glamour section he's sitting in front of. If they can unify even the smallest portion of Eleven to rise up, to work against the Capitol, maybe their labour won't feel like such a lost cause.

But to unify the workers, they need to stand together for something, something that they all believe in. That's why a few of his friends are adding extra details on the Capitol's cruelty against Eleven. Most of their hard work will go to waste if the posters are quickly ripped down by patrolling peacekeepers, or, Panem forbid, they get caught putting up the posters, but if just one can reach a few workers, they might have more who are willing to join their cause. That's how Luke discovered the rebels, after all. He had hated this glamorous portion of Eleven, the Mayor's House and all, when right behind it were people starving to death, infants almost too tired to nurse and old men and women withering away since they were not strong enough to work. It didn't help that when he climbed the orange trees, he could see the rows of slum houses and see the cloud of poverty hang heavy over Eleven. So when he had found one of the posters the rebels scattered around his street, he left his home at midnight to join their cause.

They made him a runner, one of the few who would distribute the posters and flyers among the homes of Eleven. Luke was fast, agile, things that were essential if he didn't want to get caught. And he never had been.

Except once.

One of the girls handed him a stack of freshly drawn flyers, the paint barely dry on the thin paper. "You're sticking to the easternmost side this time. Careful, I know the patrols like to stick to the centre of town, but you might be caught off guard in case they change their minds. They're always erratic about scheduling close to the reapings."

Luke nods, biting his lip as he waits for the rest of the flyers to be put in his hand. It's his second-to-last year to be reaped, and he's been called up once more to take part in the final reaping after being one of the few chosen from the bowl in this section of Eleven. He's not too worried. He had been called up to the capital city's Reaping Square twice before for the final reapings in Eleven, and both times they had chosen small boys from the thirteen and fourteen-year sections who had been slaughtered by the careers in the bloodbath. He'll be safe from the peacekeepers there. But while distributing papers?

He'll be careful.

When the final stack is placed in his arms, he takes off down the hill and dodges into a side alley to scramble his way into the homes. They always send the runners off a few minutes before the shifts in the fields switch so that the workers have ample time to read the papers before the peacekeepers confiscate them.

It's all too easy for Luke to throw papers around the street, stuffing them into windowsills and throwing them at small children playing with wire hoops along the dirt road. When he hears the rumble of a truck that signals the arrival of the workers and peacekeepers, he throws the rest of the papers into the air and dodges into a crack between two homes, making his way between walls before finding a pipe he can climb up and onto a roof away from the peacekeepers. From here, he can see his home in the distance, the tin roof patched with shingles and pieces of wood alike to keep the rain from seeping through.

But it's not time to go home now.

Not yet.

Not until his work is finished.

 **Aloie Church, 12  
** **District Eleven Female**

She takes a bite out of one of the strawberries nestled in a basket on the table, the basket lined with fresh leaves that she would grind up later. Many of the workers who came to the apothecary for help brought gifts as a token of appreciation for Aloie and her mentor, supplying them with food and conveniences alike. Aloie knows that it's wrong, but she can't help but feel a twinge of relief when she sees one of the richer members of the town walk up to her door, in need of help. It means that they'll get something significantly valuable out of it.

She still treats them the same as any other customer, but she's learned to be a little more opportunistic from Cora. Even if she struggles with learning that she can't treat a peacekeeper the same way she helps a worker with the sore toe from the fields. She was taught that quickly enough when the peacekeeper pushed the man out of the way, annoyed with the time Aloie was wasting with him, and demanded an order for free for wasting his time. She felt so guilty she didn't sleep that whole night.

She yawns before placing the green stem of the strawberry into the bin of composted food that she and Cora use to help grow the plants they keep in the apothecary, a few earthworms wiggling in and out of the mess of food. It smells a bit, but they keep it near the window where a brisk breeze pushes the stench away from the apothecary. It's bearable as long as she sticks away from it for the most part, so she takes a breath of fresh air after she steps away from the bin. It's a beautiful day today, especially with the sun just strong enough to let the air stay warm, but not enough to burn away the mist that hangs in the morning sky.

Through the window, Aloie can see Cora walk out from the hut that they share behind the apothecary, where they live and store several of their more valuable products. Aloie's mattress is nestled in front of packages of plants shipped in from District Seven and kept in the dry hut until they would be sold to workers and used in poultices. It always smells like mint and raspberries, although she's never stored either of those near her bed. But she likes the smell. It's a good way to fall asleep, to the scent of berries and mint.

But she snaps out of her thoughts when Cora enters the apothecary. Aloie puts the basket of berries on a side counter where they won't be seen by young children accompanying their parents to the shop and starts rearranging jars of dried herbs and plants on the shelves of the apothecary, using a tattered cloth to wipe away dust from the jars so they can gleam in the sunlight. "How are you today, Cora?"

"Fine, thank you," Cora mutters, pushing back her grey-black hair and slapping her cheeks to wake herself up more fully before walking behind the counter. "I suppose you haven't opened up shop yet?"

"I put the open sign up, but no one yet," Aloie replies. "I suppose we'll just wait until the next shift starts and we get a few more workers to come in."

"Fair enough." Cora draws the basket of sesterces they keep behind the main counter out into the open and counts it quickly, sorting them into piles of five before nodding in affirmation. "Hurry this to the back of the shop and into the barrel before putting on some gloves and helping me strip these sunflowers of their leaves. Quick now, you don't have all day."

Aloie giggles. The sun only rose a few hours ago, but Cora is an impatient woman, even on her best days. As for her worst days, well, Aloie always prays that they don't get any severe cases to handle that day. Which they always do.

She takes the basket and empties it into the small slot on the top of the barrel where they store their money, the sesterces rattling as they fall down into the barrel and on top of the layers of coins. At this point, Aloie can't lift the barrel unless she asks Cora to help her. But there's a latch at the bottom that they can take sesterces out of if Cora uses her key to open the barrel, and then Aloie is sent with their shopping lists to various stores in the district.

Sometimes she remembers the items on her own, but she usually needs a list to make sure she gets the complicated ingredients that Cora likes to use in her food. She's made a few too many mistakes which had resulted in Aloie being sent to bed without supper - before Cora regretted her methods of discipline and let Aloie have not only supper, but seconds.

When the sesterces are emptied into the barrel and the basket is put back into place, Aloie moves back to the sunflowers, where she starts stripping them of their leaves. If brewed into a strong tea, sunflower leaves can help reduce fevers, and they're also helpful for poultices on swollen injuries and snake bites. She makes quick work of the first dozen with her thick gloves on, her fingers used to working in the clumsy glove wear. It's better than getting more blisters, after all.

As she moves onto the next pile of sunflowers, the bell that just grazes the top of the door rings. Someone's here for their services. Aloie turns around slowly to see who needs help, still stripping leaves from the sunflowers, before dropping the plants and tearing off her gloves, leaving them behind on the counter. She dashes over to the sink and scrubs her hands with the rough brown soap that she buys for half-off at one of the corner stores in Eleven, her hands sore when she turns back to the workers. A man with dark brown eyes and dark skin is groaning as he's carried into the apothecary, his left foot completely bare and swelling up quickly.

Cora drops the plants that she's packaging and hurries over to the man, clearing off the table with frantic motions. "Here, here, lie him down on the table. Don't elevate his foot, it'll only make it worse. Aloie, get the pillows from the hut and help him sit up a little. We don't want the venom spreading to his heart."

Aloie is back in an instant with an armful of thin, grey pillows, which she places under the head of the injured man. He sighs in relief, looking away from the snake bite.

"Get the jar of theriac right now, Aloie." Cora helps the man sit up and bites her lip as she pushes the other workers out of the way, the three men and women who had helped the injured man to the store standing awkwardly in the doorway. "You're going to have to spread it over the bite area. Use the cloth, and get charcoal and the crushed sunflower leaves from the back of the shelves to make a poultice. Move quickly, please."

Aloie nods and grabs the materials, the cloth that she used to clean the shelves now wetted and ready for use on the wound. She cleans it quickly and lets a basin of water to wash the wound out, before spreading the theriac over the wound and rubbing in some charcoal and sunflower leaves into the wound. It's a fast process, and she can soon get a bandage to cover the wound. "So, I can sit by him and help by fetching him water and such while you continue running the apothecary?"

Cora nods, a smile of approval on her lips. "You're a good girl, Aloie. I'm still surprised I managed to get you on as my assistant and away from your parents. Stick by the man, he'll need some more care and some herbal tea to help with any fevers or chills."

Aloie nods, waving goodbye to the workers as they hurry back to their shift. They still have a quota to fill, after all.

And she has a person to help.

 **Back, back again with D11! How do you like these two? Glad to see a few tributes with past with one another, or nah? Excited to see more of them?**

 **One more district to go! I'll be appearing again on the 30th of March with D12, so be prepared. We're almost through with these reapings, and I'm very excited to get into the Capitol with y'all. It's going to be a lot of fun!**

 **Enjoy. Until D12, TheAmazingJAJ**


	15. District Twelve Intros: Pale Fire

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

It's a quick walk to the Justice Building when the train reaches Seven for Carameuse. She's accompanied by several escorts, who all chatter about the natural beauty of the district before disappearing towards the marketplace. They'll come back soon, led by Seven's escort, Kahleel Royce. But knowing the escorts, most will either be overloaded with trinkets and delicacies from the marketplace. Unless, of course, they'll be fooled into going on a hike with the victors.

Carameuse would pay good money to see the twelve go on a day-long hike.

She snickers and almost loses her hat at the thought of the escorts attempting to climb the steep hills of Seven, but recovers elegantly. When she was younger, her mother enrolled Carameuse in a manners class to tame the young girl. It hadn't gone well, but she had retained one useful lesson: the art of balance and hand-eye coordination.

A peacekeeper - several, actually - waits at the door of the Justice Building and looks cautiously at Carameuse. She sticks out a long, gloved hand, waiting for Carameuse to hand her an ID card. "Card, please."

Carameuse slips out her purse and digs through it for the card, handing it to the guard with a smile. The guard slots the card into a processing machine before widening her eyes, surprised by the information. "You're here for the president? She's on the second floor, fifth door to the left. You won't miss it."

Carameuse nods and continues to walk, her high heels clicking on the floors of the building. Artwork adorns the ceiling, inspired by the lush trees of spring in Seven. And when she ascends the flight of stairs, she sees that the portraits of the past mayors of Seven line the hallways. There aren't very many - only five portraits hang on the right side of the hallway - but more than what she would have expected for the short amount of time the mayors had been reinstated as heads of the districts. Then again, there had been a period where no head of Panem could be sure of keeping their job - a hazy time that involved more than a few seedy characters hired by Fiammetta to keep those under her control quiet.

But she's not here to judge the president, she's here to help her. So Carameuse ignores the painting and heads towards the fifth door on the left, noting that it's open. When she enters through the door, she sees Fiammetta sitting in one of the lush, leather chairs of the room and chatting with the current mayor, her eyes focused on the mayor. But when she hears Carameuse - or rather Carameuse's heels - walking towards her, she looks up and gives a small grin. "Good to have you, Carameuse!"

Carameuse nods back, looking around the room. "I suppose you brought your security detail with you?"

"Of course." Fiammetta's eyes harden and Carameuse notices the two guards standing by the curtains of the room. For an instant, she remembers a half-forgotten story about some tribute being stabbed in a waiting room by their father - mother, uncle? She's forgotten already - but it escapes her mind's grasp and she focuses back on the conversation.

"Well, I do believe that the train should be safe." Carameuse gives a small nod and looks out the window to see the train waiting just by the train station. She'll have to head back soon.

"And the interviews?"

"Going well. I'll still have to chat with the politicians and the game maker, but the mentor is out of the clear."

"Oh, but what about her forays around Panem? They were awfully close to Panem Day."

"Blame it on her youth. You'll see that she did nothing more than visit a few friends… and a few bedmates."

"Oh." Fiammetta cracks a grin and stands up, the mayor moving back into a guarded stance. District Seven's Mayor is on edge around the president, Carameuse notes, but she also sees the sweat stains under his armpits. It's easy to see that he's making sure not to end up as just another portrait on the walls of the hallway.

A worthy endeavour, to be sure. But not one for her to focus on.

"I'll be heading back to the train soon. We do only have a few hours before we leave for Six, and I'd like to reach out to a few more suspects before we get there," Carameuse states. She leaves out the fact that she'd like to speak with Hart, but what Fiammetta doesn't know won't hurt her. It's best just to speak of the most essential facts at this point.

"Of course! I'll be leaving as well to the train. An hour or so after you, of course. I'd like for us to not be associated together just yet."

"A wise choice." Carameuse gives Fiammetta a quick hug. "I'll see you at dinner?"

"If all goes well." Fiammetta gives a glance out into the streets of Seven, and Carameuse watches the president faintly shudder. "As long as one of the people responsible for Panem Day isn't on the train, we should be safe."

Carameuse's head throbs, but she says nothing of the wound. She doesn't want to worry the president, although a little voice nags at her to tell her of the incident.

Oh well, she'll tell her eventually, when they're both safe and sound on the train. Where Carameuse can make sure that everything's as secure as it can be. "Other than a few unsavoury characters, we should be fine."

She hopes.

 **Hex Hertz, 16  
** **District Twelve Male**

Hex covers his mouth to hide a yawn from the teacher as he fiddles with a pencil, trying to pay attention to the map plastered up onto the board that his teacher is pointing at. If he was anymore tired from last night, he would just fall asleep on his desk until the lesson was over and he had to head home, but his moral code was too polite to let that happen. So he continues to take notes on the different years of Hunger Games history that Ms. Afte is lecturing on about, trying to fit it back into his head.

The names of Isa James and Douglas Tomlinson usually escape him, but he manages to jot them down into the District Six heading in his notebook along with a few facts about their games. He remembers being little and watching the 16th Games, where Isa had won in a finale where the oil-filled waters of the farmland had caught fire and forced her and the Nine girl to the cornucopia, where Isa had kicked her opponent into the flames. What was the runner-up's name again?

He liked most of the victors, with Isa's saucy smile up on the top of the wall, sandwiched between the fifteenth and seventeenth victors. If she was from Twelve instead of Six, Hex had a feeling he wouldn't like her - she seemed to be snobby and stuck up from the interviews the class had been shown, but the years of mentoring seemed to have calmed her down. It must be hard to be a mentor, he ponders, doodling stars and arrows on the side of his notebook. He couldn't handle losing one or two children under his care every year.

Well, perhaps he could, but he's too tired from dance training last night to comprehend how to deal with the frustration and grief of being a mentor or a victor. After all, he doesn't have to think about that when he's stuck writing notes on the eighteenth victor. Bastion Cray fits under the District Four heading, along with the island paradise of his arena.

Hex doodles a palm tree and coconut under Bastion's name for emphasis before trying not to day-dream once more, smiling and nodding as the teacher looks his way before trying to hold back his yawns.

Soon enough, the bell rings, and the merchant kids hop out of their seats and towards the back of the class to grab their bags. The Seam kids idle in their seats and avoid heading outside, still trying to make the most of the heating in the classroom before they had to enter back into the chill of a strangely cold May. Hex doesn't bother fitting into either of their groups, slowly packing his bag with supplies before breaking into a sprint and out of the classroom, dodging the teacher and heading outside.

Sometimes, he would stay behind to hide apples and fruit from his home in some of the hungrier kid's backpacks, the ones who need it to keep going instead of taking more tesserae from the peacekeepers. He doesn't mind the fact that he's giving up food, he feels like he has to do it, to share his blessing with others. But for every time he sneaks an apple into another's backpack, he finds that someone's left their own behind.

He never understands how people can be prideful enough to refuse something that could stop them from going hungry.

But then again, he's never been as hungry as them. He can't judge.

He can only help.

As the air cools and he runs through the streets, he heads through the Seam to get to his home more quickly. His house borders the Seam and the town, his parents a mix of Seam and town that they don't care much about. His dad was a merchant's son before their business collapsed and sent them spiralling into the Seam for years before Hex's father, Deci, made the most of what he had and started peddling children's toys to merchants in the town.

Deci was good with his hands, and combined with his good looks, he managed to charm most of the merchants into buying into his business before getting a bit of attention from an obscure Capitol company that looked for District talent. Hex's father now lived in the town with his wife, Ana, but never cared much for either side as he made toys and accepted a small wage from the company he worked for. After all, he was doing what he loved.

And Hex was as well.

He leaps into the air and lets out a cry of delight, letting his head fall back to look up at the sky. He's perfected the splits by now and can leap into them with ease, his legs forming a solid line in the air before he lands back on solid ground. Then he keeps running, tossing his bag into the air and catching it to occupy himself. When he's in dance practice, a good part of his work is throwing girls into the air for ballet routines and catching them. He used to struggle to do so, but a recent growth spurt allows Hex to comfortably throw and catch the girls in his class.

And he still gets to practice solos, with all of the pirouettes, splits, and leaps in the air that he can dream of.

He soon makes it home and opens the blue door to the house, entering through the kitchen. It's a strange set up, but his mother enjoys it when she gets home from working at the butcher's shop and his dad doesn't mind it at all. So Hex grabs a piece of bread and butters it before putting jam into the freshly baked piece, shoving it into his mouth and chewing as he heads into his room on the first floor. After opening his door, he combs his black hair into place while using the mirror as a guide before grinning, collapsing into his bed and watching the wind play with the dead leaves from last fall.

Even if everything is covered with soot in Twelve, it can still be beautiful.

Hex just has to look for it.

 **Arisa Fetch, 14  
** **District Twelve Female**

She yawns before shifting her position in the large armchair, throwing her legs over one of the arms before leaning her back on the other arm. From there she keeps reading the tattered book that's slowly coming apart at the seams, carefully turning each page. A few have already fallen out.

She normally wouldn't resort to reading the books that her mother keeps in the back room for kindling the fire, but it's been a long day and she's waiting for them to come home. She had hurried here from after school, and, for once in her life, no parent greeted her as she took off her coat and entered the kitchen. No, the Fetch parents were busy working at the butcher's office to skin and cut apart a deer that had been foolish enough to enter the boundaries of Twelve and get caught by a person from the Seam who had sold it for a high price. Well, at least that's what her mother had tried to say before running out of the door this morning, too busy to walk Arisa to school and 'safeguard' her from the horrors of Twelve. But Arisa isn't an idiot. She knows that whoever had caught the deer had done so outside of Twelve, and had dragged it to the butcher's shop through back roads.

Arisa's parents protect her too often, trying to shield her from all of the darker parts of Twelve and Panem. But whenever she has a chance, she keeps peeking at them, trying to understand her world all the more that they stop her from doing so. After this, she'll look at the old newspapers that are used to start the fire, burning brightly in their old wood stove. It's to keep her mind at peace, and she enjoys learning about events from ten years ago. Most of it is propaganda about the latest games, back then, the 12th Games, but she occasionally gets to see some of the darker murders and scandals in the neighbouring districts.

If only Twelve was as _exciting._

But soon the book comes to a frustrating end, due to the fact that three pages are missing at the back where the author would have revealed which lacklustre man the heroine would have ended up with after taming several animals in the wild, and Arisa throws it into the fire with a grunt. Oh well, it's onto the newspapers now.

They would use kerosene and oil for the fire that her book is burning inside of, but her parents refuse to take out tesserae for Arisa. Instead, they work double the amount for the butcher to make sure that their darling daughter doesn't go to the Games.

She's the only thing that keeps them together, after all. Arisa was born out of wedlock, with her parents quickly marrying so that they could support their daughter instead of forcing her mother to go it alone as a single parent. Sometimes she's surprised her father didn't try to leave from the get go - Leon Fetch is immature at times and has too large a sense of humour for his wife's taste, but he's nothing if not loyal to his family. She supposes that Twelve is simply too small to leave a lover, but Leon would have stayed no matter where they lived. He's the kindest person she knows.

Meanwhile, her mother is the opposite of Arisa's father - calm, cold, and controlling. She's heard whispers from the neighbours that she had crossed over from Ten during the dark days, migrating from Twelve to get away from the massacre of the rebellion in that district. It's why Arisa never gets to experience the world unless she's by herself. Felicia Fetch is too protective to let her only daughter get hurt by the world outside of their home.

But they're also often in need of money, so Arisa partially dropped out of school to help her mother and father at the butcher's. She's learned how to cut rabbits, deer, and cows into neat strips of meat to sell to the merchants, as well as how to throw knives - when her mother isn't looking, Arisa's father likes to challenge her to a game of knife throwing. But she goes whenever she can, and on a day like today, Arisa can convince her mother to let her go to school and be with other teens in the district before heading back home and waiting for them to get home.

So now she's at home, looking through her notebooks and trying to learn more about the units in school by pouring through old newspapers. Arisa is good at storing knowledge, saving the strangest bits to tell her parents that cause them to look at her strangely.

But she's more creative than she is knowledgeable. When she's in the right mood, she can fix almost anything she can find in the house, through unorthodox methods of using tape, rope, newspaper, and the broken pieces themselves - as well as all of the soot in the house. When one lives this close to the mines of Twelve, everything tastes like coal. Her mother gave up trying to wear white clothing ages ago.

Arisa gets up and walks through the house, stubbing her toe on the table and howling in anger. She kicks it again in a fit of rage and then falls down on the floor, clutching her toe and regretting the second kick. But she can never focus when she's angry, and she falls into moods more quickly than leaves fall from the trees around her home - which is quickly when they're weighed down by coal dust.

But she becomes calm once the pain vanishes and gets off of the floor, forgetting her rage as she hears the door open at the front of the house. It's starting to get dark, and that means that her parents will be home soon.

When she rushes to the door, she dodges a shoe thrown at her father as he rushes into the house and up the stairs, her mother following him and sputtering in rage. "You - you - you are the most childish man I've ever met!"

"You don't know what a child is like, considering that you've never been one yourself," her father retorts, her mother rushing up the stairs to confront Leon in their room. Arisa shrugs and goes back to the newspapers, making sure to close the door before she goes to the living room. After all, it gets cold in the nights here.

At least her parents can fight enough to raise the tension in this home to a boiling point. That'll keep them warm.

Now, which paper hasn't she looked through yet?

 **Last intros hype!**

 **How do you like these two? Now, we can start heading into the Capitol - we've got a lot to get through, but it'll be all good fun. I've finished publishing one SYOT and writing another in the time between the D11 intros and this, so now this is the only SYOT of mine I'm writing for! Hurrah!**

 **Enjoy the chapter, y'all. I'll see you sometime in April with the reaping recaps - and hopefully, by then, we'll be off to the races as I keep on writing. I hope you're doing well!**

 **A poll is going up soon so be sure to vote - it'll be quite helpful. Thanks in advance!**

 **Have a great day. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	16. Reapings: Stand Still

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
** **Capitol Citizen**

It's after the train pulls out of District Seven's main city when things start to go wrong.

Carameuse had been resting in her room when the first signs of trouble appeared, trying to nap before dinner began. The wind starts to howl fiercely when she gets up from her bunk, looking out the window at the mountains that the train will ascend to reach the neighbouring districts and, eventually, District Six. To her surprise, she's greeted by a blanket of white - snow covers the mountainside for as far as she can see, and more is falling as the train pushes up the mountain.

Isn't it May?

Carameuse shrugs and grabs an overcoat to put on. She pauses at the mirror and adjusts the frustrating blonde wig she's had on for the past week, only wig glue keeping it on her head firmly. She's been told that there's a remover of some sorts to ease the removal of the wig when its time comes, but she doesn't know where to search for one, much less how to use it.

Oh well, she'll cross that bridge when she comes to it.

After a cursory glance around the room to make sure that everything is in order, Carameuse ventures out into the hallway to head towards the dining car. A few Capitolites are sitting next to the windows, watching the snow fall down to the mountainside. Carameuse feels a twinge of relief when she sees one of the politicians on her list head into the dining car. It won't be a struggle to find them in the small room.

But before she opens the door, the smooth sound of the train moving along the tracks is interrupted by a roar of falling… snow?

Carameuse bites her lip to stop herself from yelping in alarm as she looks out the window. In the instant before she drops to the floor, she sees a wave of snow coming down towards the train.

Then she drops to the ground, and covers her face as the Capitolites shriek and do the same, praying she won't hear the sound of breaking glass.

She shouldn't have been alarmed - the snow doesn't break the windows, but by the time Carameuse looks up, she sees a nasty crack that creeps up the side of the glass like a spiderweb. The train has stopped dead in its tracks, and when one of the Capitolites tries to open the door, it stays shut. The force of the snow has jammed it.

"One, two, three!" one of the Capitolites rams his shoulder into the jammed door, and stumbles into the dining cab as it wrenches free and swings into the room. The Capitolite trips on the carpet, but avoids falling flat on his face - he falls to his knees instead. A little girl in the dining car is crying, and her father is hugging her tightly while trying to type on his holo-pad, probably a quick text to a family member.

But Carameuse ignores the Capitolites. She can only see the body of a dead man at the other side of the car.

The wind howls.

 **Ezra Winfield, 13  
** **District Nine Male**

Ezra fixes his brown bowtie and slicks up his hair in the mirror, giving his reflection a grin. But it's only a weak one - after all, he's heading to the reapings today.

It's a yearly tradition for the Winfields to walk down to Nine's square together and get checked in, so Ezra takes one last glance at the mirror, admiring his tweed pants and brown vest before heading out of his bedroom and towards the door.

"Are you ready to go?" Ezra's mother asks, giving Ezra a cursory glance to make sure that he hasn't snuck a knife under his sweater or something she'd deem as foolish. She still hasn't forgiven him for sneaking out that night to find Falcon in the Victor's Village, but she couldn't help but give him a hug when he came back from the Peacekeeper's Station, half asleep from the questioning they had put him through.

Ezra hadn't minded it at all. After all, it allowed him to learn more about the detective life he was pursuing - the peacekeeper in charge of questioning had released him early. She had been too tired to deal with all of the questions he asked her between answers.

"Yep!" Ezra grabs the doorknob and hangs off of it, waiting for his father to come down the stairs. Frank Winfield takes too long to stop Ezra from becoming impatient, but he eventually finishes putting on clothes and enters the room. As soon as his father enters in, Ezra scurries out the door, both of his parents walking behind him.

And off they go, moving down the long road to the Reapings Square. Ezra can hear the noise of citizens lining up to get registered, and his eyes shine in delight. He's forgotten the nervousness of Reaping Day already.

Perhaps something exciting will happen!

 **Electra Mancuso, 16  
** **District Three Female**

She stands in line to get registered by the peacekeepers, a long line of teenagers behind her. Her step-brother Alesander, if that's what he's classified as, is standing in front of her and is tapping his foot impatiently, watching a group of teens get escorted into the square. He, Electra, and Nick had all been drawn in the pre-reapings, an informal drawing of names to make sure that the square doesn't overflow with citizens.

Electra isn't worried. She's been taken to the Reapings twice before, once in the Orphanage and once with the Westinghouses, the family who had taken her and the twins in. Both times she hadn't been reaped, and she doesn't expect to be this time. Instead, she thinks of the television waiting at the Westinghouse home to be fixed - something she _can_ do - and ignores the sting of the peacekeeper drawing a blood sample. The woman draws it from Electra's right arm, where it had been drawn the years before.

It's nice to know that it doesn't ever change.

Then she walks into the reaping square, and the buzz of children looking for their areas to stand overwhelm her instantly. After venturing a few steps into the crowd, she stops and puts her hands over her ears. Try as she might, it doesn't stop the noise, and she keeps rocking back and forth nervously. She can feel a knot in her stomach forming, squeezing at her insides and making her all the more anxious.

Then Nick comes into the crowd and helps her find her spot, giving her a smile before walking back to the sixteen-year-old boy's section. He waves to Electra when he finds an empty spot, and she waves back before the escort taps her microphone and begins to speak.

The crowd is quiet now, and the tense knot in Electra's stomach has vanished completely. Now she can listen to the long speech, which is the same as every other year. It's like watching it at home with the twins, and Electra relaxes once more.

She'll be safe here. All she has to do is wait until the girl and boy are chosen for District Three, and are spirited away into the building in front of the square.

And then she can go home.

 **Duchess Curoscate, 16  
** **District One Male**

She bounces back and forth on the balls of her heels, watching Tito Fuego read from the long President's Address to the People. Then the Mayor of One takes the stage, and Tito Fuego walks away in a green tuxedo that shines like a gem, with sashes of emerald silk trailing the suit. It's a fantastic sight, but Duchess only gives it a quick glance before turning back to the Mayor. In only a few minutes, she'll be up on that stage.

Duchess always admires the outfits of the escorts. She has a small box at her house where she stores drawings of the escort's outfits every year, along with other sketches of what she envisions the next year's theme to be. But this year, she drew what she wanted her reaping outfit to be. And after months of hoping, she had made it happen.

With more than a few dances in dirty rooms and on dingy stages, she had cobbled the outfit together - an elegant pink dress that reaches her knees, a small pink jacket that hangs around her shoulders, a long blonde wig with thick curls, and pink lipstick to finish the look.

As a last-minute addition, she had put on nail extensions last night, blowing on them for half an hour to make sure they stuck before falling asleep. They're cumbersome and annoying to work with, but they complete the statement that she's sending the Capitol - Duchess is letting them know that she's here to play this game.

After the Mayor - finally - finishes his speech and walks back to his seat, Duchess tenses up. She takes a glance behind her, and she sees Tourmaline ready to run up to the stage. Tito gives a grin to the square, then plunges his hand into the girl's glass bowl. He chooses a name, and opens the slip slowly. "And our female tribute is..."

Duchess gives a grin when she hears Tourmaline yell "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

She's ready to play.

 **Ceres Hemlock, 17  
** **District Ten Female**

"And our female tribute is… Ceres Hemlock! Ceres, can you come up onto the stage for us?"

Ceres looks up at the stage with a startled glance. Ceres Hemlock? But that's… but that's…

 _Her._

She looks back to see a pair of peacekeepers walking through the crowd, and she forces herself to move out of her spot and towards the stage. The escort, Ottava Tenor, gives her a wide smile that reminds Ceres of the grin of a cat.

A cat waiting to pounce on its innocent prey.

A wave of terror washes over her when she walks up the stairs. Time seems to have slowed down, and she can hear a distorted echo of her footsteps as she moves onto the stage. Is this what fear sounds like? Is this what people hear when they know they're about to die?

But then that terror is replaced with embarrassment when she sees the thousands of people staring at her. She can keep her composure in front of a crowd, but it's a different feeling to be on television. She pretends not to remember that the olive-green dress she has on has a small hole near the neckline, and that the brown shoes she has on are scuffed. She focuses only on keeping her face blank and free of emotion. She's watched the Hunger Games before, she knows that tributes who cry on stage are seen as bloodbath fodder.

And she wants to survive for longer than five minutes.

"Ceres, it's good to have you up here! Do you want to say anything to your district?"

A microphone is shoved under her mouth, and somehow Ceres gathers the courage to speak in front of the crowd. "I love you, Mom and Dad. I'll be home soon, promise."

"We have a spirited one today!" Ottava exclaims, holding Ceres' hand up for the crowd. "A round of applause for our female tribute, please!"

Nobody claps.

 **Aeson Humpford, 18  
** **District Two Male**

A wave of applause sweeps through the square as Pirate holds Enyo's hand up in the air, Enyo giving a wide grin for the cameras. Aeson can't help but give a grin towards the distant stage, seeing Enyo take her spot on the side. Reaping Day is always exhilarating, especially when the volunteers pump up the crowd before heading into the Justice Building and to the Hunger Games.

And he'll be the next to head up.

Pirate lets her hand drop into the bowl, letting her hand swirl around the thousands of slips to build the tension of the moment. But no one is paying attention to the bowl, much to Pirate's disappointment. They're scanning the crowd to see which boy will be volunteering.

The Academy keeps the volunteer a secret to the general public until they step onto the stage, to ensure that if a volunteer has to step down for any reason, the transition from first to second pick will be simple.

But that won't happen today. After all, Aeson is as fit as he can be for the Games, and he had been told the good news three days ago.

Yesterday, he spent the night with his family to enjoy his last day in District Two. His father had phoned to bring the twins home for the night, and Johan and Julia Humpford skipped a night of work at their respective hospitals to coach Aeson on how to handle his urinary tract infection in the arena. "Urinate whenever possible, and take the medicine whenever you're able to," his sister had cautioned him. "Your job is to keep it under control until you can get out of there and back home."

Aeson had blushed and punched his sister in the arm lightly, and they laughed. Johan watched from the corner, a wary glance on his face. He still was angry at his brother for not coming home to treat the infection, but he didn't _understand_ the importance of these last few weeks. After all, staying home would lose Aeson's last chance of heading into the Games.

It was a necessary evil. And it had paid off, Aeson reflects as Pirate calls out the name of the tribute supposed to be heading into the Hunger Games.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

 **Luke Atkinson, 17  
** **District Eleven Male**

It's a long, long walk up to the stage. And not because he's scared - no, Luke's not scared, he's just angry. District Eleven's square is massive, even with the pre-reapings choosing only a portion of Eleven to stand and wait for the reapings to end.

Luke glares at the cameras, flipping off one near the centre of the stage as he walks towards the stage. It's caught on camera and displayed for the Capitol to see, he observes with an angry smile. Good for them, they can see how pissed off he is to have to play these Games, to die in the Hunger Games for their entertainment.

He always thought in the back of his mind that he'd be caught in the middle of a rebellious act, that he'd be shot behind one of the shacks in his town and left to rot until he's thrown into an unmarked grave. Being a rebel meant you were marked for death by the Capitol. But he didn't think he'd be killed quite this way.

He doesn't notice the girl who had been reaped alongside him until he walks onto the stage, cursing a storm up for the escort, a man by the name of Dormantine Lander, to gasp at.

Truthfully, Luke hadn't been paying attention to the reapings until his name had been called. What he _had_ focused on was the fact that he had propaganda posters tucked under his shirt, ready to be spread through the square once the reaping ended and the crowd dispersed. Luke can faintly the paper - damp from sweat - rustle under the thin cloth of his shirt, and he wonders what he'll do with them now that he's heading to the Capitol. Maybe he'll hide them under a pillow on the train for an avox to find.

But then he sees the girl on the stage, blubbering into her sleeve as she tries not to break down completely, and his heart stops.

 _A light shines on his face, and he sees piercing brown eyes stare down at him. "You'll be alright," the eyes say. "You were beaten by the peacekeepers to a pulp, but you'll be safe here. Just stay calm."_

 _He closes his eyes, and feels a slimy substance being spread over his torso. It stings, and he yelps for the eyes to hear. Then he is silent, for even shouting hurts._

" _Stay still!" the eyes command, stopping Luke from moving once more. "You can't move while the ointment is being applied, or it's going to hurt more!"_

 _He stays still, and falls asleep as the eyes massage more ointment onto his body. When he falls asleep, he thinks of those eyes, and he keeps him in his mind even when he recovers enough to hobble out of the apothecary and back to his home._

 _Those piercing brown eyes._

The girl on the stage's eyes.

Luke curses.

 **Shelby Doran, 17  
** **District Four Female**

Shelby barely has a chance to look for Mona in the large crowd of District Four's main square before she's whisked away to the building behind the stage. Fraser confidently leads the way and heads towards the right of the long hall inside of the building with a soldier - peacekeepers, Magdalene said they were called? - following him. Shelby's escorted to the left by another peacekeeper, who brings her to a room guarded by yet more peacekeepers.

Aloma doesn't have soldiers like this.

Aloma doesn't have the Hunger Games either.

Shelby waits in the room and sees a large bowl of candy in the centre of a table, red and white wrappers begging to be opened. After a moment of deliberation, she sneaks some into her pocket, unwrapping one of the treats and popping it in her mouth with satisfaction.

Aloma doesn't have these either.

After a few minutes of Shelby waiting in the room, Mona is brought in by two peacekeepers and the girls embrace. Shelby sees that Mona has been crying and gives her a hug, patting the younger girl on the back. "It's okay, Mona. Soon I'll be back here, and we can find a way to get back home."

"But aren't you fighting others to the death?" Mona starts to cry again, but wipes the tears away fiercely. "You have to be safe, Shell. Please don't hurt yourself."  
"Oh, I'm sure it won't be that difficult," Shelby scoffs. "They'd have to be depraved to make us all fight to the death."

The girls are interrupted by a peacekeeper at the door bursting into laughter, gasping for breath before he quiets down in a hurry. They ignore the man.

"Oh, just be safe and get back quickly," Mona sniffles. "And really, don't die out there. Please."

"I won't, Mona. I'll be back in a week or so, and then we'll find a boat and get back home. Promise."

Shelby doesn't Mona see her crossed fingers.

 **Timber Sycamore, 14  
** **District Seven Male**

Timber sits in the large Goodbye Room, whistling cheerily to pass the time. His parents were far back in the square and all of Seven attends the Reapings, so it'll be a bit before they gather his siblings to come visit him. For now, he entertains himself with the candy on a small table next to the chair he sits in - quite nice of the Capitol to leave something like this for tributes to eat from - and thinks up puns.

He really has a one tree-ack mind - no, that's not good enough of a pun to work.

"Kill them all!" a voice calls out to Timber, and he looks up to see Gary enter the room. "You'll survive this, Timber. I know you can."

Timber gives Gary a hug, then a grin. "I'll _tree_ able to make it through the Games - and then come home."

Gary laughs, then hugs Timber back. "Just be safe."

"Don't worry too much." Timber waves goodbye to Gary as his friend leaves the room, nearly bumping into a peacekeeper before vanishing into the hallway. And then his family appears, the three embracing Timber and squeezing him tightly until he feels like he can't breathe. But he doesn't complain.

"Please Timber, run as soon as you're able," his mother sobs as she holds onto him tightly. She can't find the strength to let go of her only son. "Don't die in those Games because you try to get supplies from the centre."

"Why would I try to?" he asks, giving his mother a squeeze. "I'll be perfect- _tree_ fine in there."

"Oh, oh, you're always the same," his mother says to Timber before reluctantly letting go of him.

"Stay safe," Timber's father says as he pats his son on the back. "When you find a water source in there, boil the water before you drink it. You don't want to catch anything in the arena."

"Of course!" Timber hugs his dad and then sweeps little Charity into his arms, his sister giggling through her messy brown hair. "I'll be home soon, right, Charity?"

"Very soon! You're going to be the winner, right Ma?" giggles Charity. His mother nods to Charity and takes the little girl in her arms, standing by his father.

"I suppose you'll be _leave-_ ing now?" Timber asks, snickering as his father breaks into a laugh. "I'll be home soon. Don't worry. For me."

And then they leave, and Timber chats with Tom when he comes in near the end of the hour. He tells Timber to knock the Capitol dead, then disappears into the hallway as well.

Timber doesn't tell anyone that he's scared.

 **Colleen Tosse, 17  
** **District Five Female**

She sits waiting in the Goodbye Rooms for her grandmother to come visit her, not expecting her to make it to the Justice Building quickly. After all, Kelstra Tosse is pushing seventy soon, and it's a large crowd in the square. Colleen doesn't mind, she can sit and think here.

She can think about why she found herself yelling "I volunteer as tribute!" when she saw Turmeric's sister standing on the stage.

Then, Caraway Saucer hurries into the room and gives Colleen a tight hug, and she remembers why she did it.

"I should be heading to the Hunger Games, not you," Caraway whispers to Colleen. "I'm so sorry, Colleen."

"It's ok, Cara. I can take care of myself in there." Colleen lets the girl sob into her chef's uniform.

"But - but -" Caraway keeps crying, not letting go of Colleen. All at once, Colleen can remember the dozens of nights that she spent with the Saucers, playing board games with Caraway and Turmeric and teasing the two as they made food for dinner. "You can't go too, not after Turmeric!"

"And let you go instead?"

Caraway pauses, and slowly nods. Even if she's young yet, she knows that Colleen left so that the Saucer parents wouldn't lose both of their children. "Please don't get hurt."

"It's ok, it's ok," Colleen whispers.

And then the Saucer parents head into the room and hug Colleen as well, tears falling onto their cheeks.

"Thank you Colleen - thank you for saving - for protecting my little girl," Mrs. Saucer chokes out, and Colleen nods. "I think I would just break if I lost her too."

"I know," Colleen soothes. "I couldn't let her go up, my soul just couldn't stay there while she was on the stage. Don't feel guilty. It's something I had to do for myself, not for you."

Mr. Saucer gives Colleen a brisk hug, his face wet with tears. "If your grandmother needs anything, I swear we'll cover for it. We owe you so much now."

"You don't, you don't," Colleen whispers to calm him down. "But thank you."

And then her grandmother enters the room, and the Saucers wisely exit to let Kelstra and Colleen embrace. Grandma is on the verge of tears, and her silver-grey hair is a mess. Colleen's grandmother never lets her hair get messy.

"I have something for you to bring to the Capitol, so that you can remember that you're not there to die. You're there to come back to us, Colleen." Grandma gives Colleen one of the queens from their chess set. The black chesspiece fits inside of Colleen's palm. "I love you, my sweet, sweet girl."

"I love you too."

And Colleen gives her one last hug.

 **Desdemona Steen, 15  
** **District Eight Female**

She coughs haggardly as her family rushes into the room, giving a loud, weary moan. "I'm going to die in the Hunger Games, and you're all going to forget me!"

"No, we won't." Mona's father stands beside her with a soft look in his eyes, watching his daughter moan loudly. "Mona, you have to _run_ when you're in the bloodbath. You can't stand there and wait for death, you have to run away if you want to win."

"But there's no point!" Mona coughs again, and she can feel her throat tighten up. "I'm probably going to die before I even reach the Games from all of the pollution in the Capitol. If you didn't make me draw tesserae last year, I wouldn't be here."

"Mona, that was two years ago. You had no excess tesserae this year. The odds are in your favour. Well, _were_." Mona's mother starts to cry ugly tears, and she gives Mona a slobbery hug that the girl pushes away from. "I'm going to miss you so much, my darling."

"So you think I'm going to _die_? You think I'm not going to win? I might as well die right now so that you aren't kept in suspense," Mona says in a huff.

"Mona, you just said yourself that you're going to die there. Don't be hypocritical." Brone Steen glares at Mona from where he stands, and she glares back. "You have to believe in yourself first if you want even Mom to hope you come back."

"You probably _want_ me dead, you idiot," Mona hisses before coughing again. But she's well enough to stick her tongue out at Brone - childish, perhaps, but it's enough to get Brone screaming at Mona, and more than enough to get her screaming back at her brother.

All too quickly, the peacekeepers rush in and escort Brone out of the room, and Mona laughs at his anger. Her parents soon follow, her mother leaving Mona a braided string bracelet to wear in the arena. They must be glad to have her gone too, if that's all they're going to do to help her there.

Mona sits in the corner and glares at the window, kicking her heels against the chair while she waits for her time in the Goodbye Rooms to end. Everyone here are just foolish, insolent, idiotic pigs that want her dead, so she doesn't pay attention to the peacekeepers standing next to the door and waiting to take her to the train.

She has herself to worry about. And that's more than enough.

 **Hex Hertz, 16  
** **District Twelve Male**

For a while, he just stands next to the door and stares blankly at the walls of the Goodbye Room. Has he processed the fact that he's going to the Hunger Games? No, he's still trying to understand why his name was called instead one of the hundreds of boys in District Twelve.

Is it karma? No, Hex has racked his brain and can't find anything to justify him going to the Hunger Games? Coincidence, then? He supposes that's the only rational explanation for it, why his name was drawn from the bowl and read aloud by Adelaide Dul Le Luece to come up onto the stage.

It's strange to think that a coincidence can send him to his death.

Soon enough, his mother and father walk into the room. Hex gives them a fierce hug and cries with them, but not for long. Even if it's for the last time, it's good to be with his family.

"If it's a forested arena, grab something close to you and run for it," Hex's father cautions. "You're fast, you can get away with just one item."

"Don't use fires unless it's in the day!" His mother gives him a large hug, then goes back to lecturing. "Find out how to limit the glow and smoke from the fires in the Capitol. You'll have some sort of chance to there. And always, always hide. Don't kill yourself by rushing into a fight, Hex."

"I won't, I won't," Hex reassures his mother. "If I don't starve to death, I'll be fine."

"You stay safe in there!" Hex's mother parts on those final words, and Hex waves to his father before the peacekeepers close the doors again.

It's almost half an hour before his final visitor arrives in the Goodbye Room - it's his best friend, who rushes to give Hex a huge hug while trying not to cry. "Hex!"

"Minnie!" Hex squeezes her tightly and stands up to talk to her, seeing that she has something in her hands. "What's in the box?"

Minnie giggles through her tears, handing Hex a box - no, _the_ box, the music box that she had given him on the day he had joined the dance group at his school. "You made me run all the way to your home to get this, you buffoon!"

Hex hugs Minnie again and smiles. He takes the music box in his hands and tucks it away into his pocket, making sure that it's safe and snug in his shorts. "Thank you so much, Min."

"You won't kill yourself running into a fight, will you?" Minnie asks, starting to cry again. Hex shakes his head and the friends hug each other again, holding each other until a peacekeeper taps Minnie on the shoulder and tells her that it's time to leave.

He stares out the window until the peacekeepers tell him that it's time to leave.

 **Armani DeCormick, 14  
** **District Six Female**

Armani's friends say goodbye and start to walk out of the room, Cristina darting away from the peacekeepers to give Armani one last hug before she too exits the room. Armani sits back down in the chair - it's quite soft, she observes - and chews on a piece of candy in a large bowl next to the chair.

A small favour for the sheep being led to slaughter.

As she keeps chewing the candy down to a manageable core to suck on, Rory comes running into the room and gives Armani a big hug. "I'm so sorry Armani please don't die you can get back home please just remember everything the mentor tells you and don't fight the other tributes and please come home please come home please come home Armani -"

They both start to cry.

Her parents come into the room as well and hug Armani. They all just stand in the centre of the Goodbye Room for a few minutes, trying to hold the remnants of the DeCormick family together.

But they can't stay together for long, and the peacekeepers tap Mom's shoulder to let them know that their time is up. Armani starts to cry again, and Rory keeps biting their lip as they hug Armani again. "You know, I always bring something from home in case I do get reaped and have to go to the Games. This time, I brought this page from _All My Children_."

Armani gasps and takes the page in her hands, gazing at the pivotal scene from her favourite story. She and Rory had taken turns stealing the book from each other and hiding it in their rooms, and more than a few pages had been ripped out and lost in the process.

She thought that this had been one of them.

Rory gives Armani another hug, then walks with their parents back out of the room. Armani begins to sit down, but the peacekeepers stop her from doing so. "You're going to the trains now, Miss."

"Al-alright," Armani stammers, walking behind the peacekeepers as they head through a small door and into a hallway she hasn't seen yet. The aged escort of Six, Dashiell Reymore, is standing in the hallway, and gives Armani a tight smile.

"Don't cry now, the ones who cry always die first," he tells Armani before leading her down the hallway. "Do you need a handkerchief? We'll be heading out to the train, and you don't want to let the reporters see you crying. Can you run without tripping?"

Armani shakes her head first, then nods. She wipes her tears away, and Dashiell opens the door for her. "Now, run to the train and only stop at the end to wave to the reporters. Then, climb in and find a place to hide until the leeches are gone and you can get more composed. Go, go!"

Armani runs, her black mary-janes holding tight to her feet as she weaves through a sea of reporters. When she reaches the door, she gives a tight wave to the crowd and vanishes into the train. Her heart is beating wildly.

 _Ba-thump!_

 _Ba-thump!_

 _Ba-thump!_

 **And now we begin.**

 **Expect a new chapter in the next few days - I'm moving quickly through the Capitol and just finished updating Caveat Lector, so I'm decently hopeful for my progress in this.**

 **A wild birthday update appears! Legend has it that if you wish me good luck you'll get riches unforeseen - or maybe just a generous thank you. I like those odds!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	17. Train Rides: Slow Starts

**Carameuse Heloise, 48**

 **Capitol Citizen**

"Where to begin?" she muses, half to herself and half to calm the hysterical men and women in the train car.

Where to begin, indeed?

She takes in the sight of the victim himself - a dead man dressed in scarlet red, his custom-made suit fitting his trim figure nicely. His light blonde hair, nearly white - perhaps he dyes it - is slicked back with some sort of gel, and it lies down on his head nicely. It's like it's glued.

Carameuse drops down to her knees and inspects the man, taking note of his nicotine-stained fingers and grime that's built up under his fingernails. Yet he's clean-shaven, has decently clean clothes - in other words, he looks like all of the other Capitolites on the train.

 _So, why the…_

"May you pass me a napkin?" she asks a woman who's standing next to her, tears dripping from orange feline irises. A curious woman, but Carameuse doesn't care what she looks like. Right now, she wants to examine the victim.

The woman, startled, reaches out a hand and passes a napkin to her. Carameuse takes it and wraps it around her hand. It's thin, yet works just well enough for her to inspect the body without leaving fingerprints. She should have used gloves, but this will do for now.

After all, she didn't expect this.

"How did you die?" she mutters as she looks around the suit for any wounds. The unfortunate red colour means that it's difficult to locate anything of the sort, but she notices the blood stain on the man's lips before she attempts to take his suit off.

 _Interesting._

She opens his mouth - and finds nothing but dark, thick blood. The inside of his mouth is a mess - she can't even see his tongue, several teeth are missing, and everywhere is blood, blood, blood.

Why did this happen? _How_ did it happen?

But as the lights start to flicker back on, she suddenly has her answer.

"All of you, I need you to stay where you are," she tells the crowd. "I need to find the President."

 **Sasha Sone, 17  
** **District Five Male**

Their escort giggles as he observes his two tributes take a seat on either side of the train car, clapping his hands together in delight. "You're a bit skinny, the two of you, but you'll do for sure. We'll fatten you up to the right size just in time for the parades. Isn't that right, Rosanna?"

Rosanna Gould nods while winking at the two, letting them know that Janus won't have anything to do with their diets. "Feel free to have something to eat. Most of my tributes are nervous when they come onto the train, and I always find that it's best to give them something to get their blood sugar up and their mind alert. Helps them process the situation better."

Sasha nods quietly, peering behind Rosanna to see the monstrous amount of food adorning the tables of the train car. He doesn't dare blink, or it might vanish in front of his eyes.

"So you'll be mentoring us?" Colleen questions the woman, pushing her hair out of her eyes and back behind the toque that adorns her head. "Do you have strategies, thoughts, ideas on what we should be doing when we get to the Capitol? You were the first victor, so you know everything about the Games - right?" She pauses, as if she's realized that she now is face to face with the lone victor of District Five. Rosanna Gould is a quiet figure in the district, not mythologized like Sasha would expect District Two to do to their victors, but she's been a household name since she was taken out of the very first arena.

And she's watched forty children die under her care.

Rosanna flushes, and Sasha resists the urge to facepalm. Out of all of the victors, Rosanna should be the most prepared for the Games. But from what he sees, she hasn't figured out a solid strategy to help tributes survive the Games. He won't bother to ask her for tips, especially when he has to share those tips with Colleen. He doesn't like sharing things with others, especially when the things won't serve him any use.

Janus sits down heavily next to Sasha as Colleen and Rosanna begin to chat about what will be happening over the next week, green hair still perfectly moulded despite the amount of sweat on his brow. "You seem like a nice lad, nice and quiet. Colleen will be just fine, but you, I think you have a chance at winning. How about it? I can set you up with a few extra sponsors, and you'll do me a few favours after the Games."

Sasha lifts an eyebrow at Janus, surprised by his judgement. Anyone should be able to see that Colleen was more invested in the Games, already well into her conversation with Rosanna. From what Sasha sees, she'll be an intelligent competitor throughout this week before the Games begin, and will use anything she has to help her prepare. At this point, he's ready to give up and just enjoy the amount of luxuries around him before heading off to die, but there's something in Janus' voice that makes him stop and consider the offer.

Perhaps if he can give a good show, he could get those sponsors that Janus is speaking about.

And he could come back to Five, but not the part where he's grown up and starved in. He'll come back as rich as the Capitol, and laugh at anyone who scoffed at him before the Reapings. They'll see what he can do.

"What would I need to do?"

 **Emma von Habsburg, 17  
** **District Nine Female**

Emma feels strange on the train. Not that she's scared, no, she's moved past the blind fear that struck her in the goodbye rooms and has moved into acceptance. It's all of this food and finery that unnerves her. It, it, it just doesn't _feel_ right to have access to so much when she knows people who are almost starving.

Then again, she's slated to die in a week. She might as well enjoy herself now.

The other tribute - Ezra - has been walking around the train car and eating most of the sweets on the tables, servants in red always coming to replace the platters with new, full plates of gooey brown chocolates and caramel fudge that would probably rot her teeth out. She probably shouldn't eat so much sugar, but in the hour or so that she's spent in this car that's filled with food upon food, she's tried more than a few sweets. After all, she reasons to herself, who else is going to eat all of this?

The answer to her question reaches a hand out and grabs a plump muffin from one of the stands on the table. "I've always liked blueberry, but I suppose carrot muffins are the best I can do for now. Have you had your fill, my dear?"

"Oh, I think I've had enough for now, Mr. Lycoris." Emma gives a small smile to District Nine's escort, who had gotten out of the loose-fitting suit that he had on before and now was dressed in a warm yellow robe. It billows around his body, tied around his waist with some sort of violet sash. "Now, you'll be our mentor this year?"

"Unless Falcon makes a miraculous recovery in the next two days, you dears will be stuck with me. I hope you don't mind it too much! I've worked with Nine before, and I keep a good eye on the Games. We can talk strategy all we want - and I give good hugs. All my friends say I do." Jo grins at Emma. Taking a bite of the carrot muffin and chewing it carefully, he waved Ezra over until he finished the bite and swallowed. "And you'll work with us as well, Ezra! Would you like to work with Emma on the train and in the Capitol, or would you prefer to remain separate?"

Ezra nods enthusiastically, gulping down another piece of fudge that he had taken from the counter. At this rate, observes Emma wryly, he'll exhaust the supply of fudge in no time at all. "I would love to do that, Ms. Lycoris! We'd have such fun together, and maybe we could find out if anyone is hiding secrets on the train! My uncle is a detective, and he's taught me everything he knows, and I know a lot about finding secrets. And you're strong and smart, right Emma? We'd do so well together!"

Emma bites back laughter and nods, knowing that Ezra means well but is ultimately deadweight. Perhaps, if she was a kinder person and if she knew that the Capitol would smile on her working with a child, she would work with Ezra.

But she's not a kind person. Is she? She doesn't know, the thought of killing other children makes her stomach queasy yet her mind stays firm. She could survive the Hunger Games.

"Perhaps we will, but for now I'd like to talk to Jo about a few things in the Capitol." Ezra nods, satisfied with Emma's answer. He then sizes up a particularly large cookie, gauging the likelihood of it all fitting into his mouth.

She looks away, not wanting Ezra to see that she's lying through her teeth.

 **Tristan Locke, 18  
** **District Eight Male**

Tristan sits inside of the booth, putting his head down and burying it in his arms. He doesn't want to think about what's happening, or what's going to be happening in the next few days.

Everything seems to be falling apart in front of him, and he doesn't know what to do. He just… he just doesn't want to think.

Mona coughs rather hoarsely from her seat in the train, trying to finish one of the chocolate eclairs that have been left out on the tables for them to eat. "We're all going to die, so what's the use of planning for this week?" she moans to her mentor - who looks severely at Mona.

"Of course you have to prepare for the Games! Even if you think you're not prepared, you don't know what might happen. You can always take medicine in the Capitol, and sponsors like to see that tributes are exciting - if we find you an angle to play whenever there are cameras out, you're going to be fine," soothes Hana Seweth. "And you never know - the gamemakers might not be in favour of a Career district winning this year. It's happened before, and they do play favourites. You make yourself one of those favourites, and you'll be good as gold."

With a bit of a shock, Tristan remembers that Hana is only a few months older than himself.

"What's your plan, Tristan?" Tomas Spool smiles at him warmly, slipping into the booth. "You know, you don't have to go it alone. We're both here to help - we know these Games. I got Hana back home, didn't I?"

"It's just… it's just… it's just that I..." Tristan flushes, not wanting to reveal what he's gone through.

"You can tell me anything, you know. I won't say a word." Tomas smiles again, taking a glass of water and filling it up from the ornate pitcher that's on the table. "Would you like any water?"

"No thanks." Tristan stares at the table, trying to make the words come out the way he wants them to. "I've been arrested before - I was part of an illegal group - and peacekeepers killed a few of them and arrested me. I'm not on their good side." He doesn't say a word of the fact that it was a rebel group. He might be heading off to die, but if there's even the slightest chance of getting out of here expressing any sympathy towards the rebels will crush it.

"Well, I'm sure that they'll overlook that. I've seen criminals go far in the Games." Tomas squeezes Tristan's shoulder, then stands up from the table. "How about I go get some paper, and we figure out something for you to follow in the Capitol?"

Tristan nods, not letting onto what he thinks of Tomas' plans. Tomas is a poor little fool, isn't he? He's Tristan's best chance of getting out alive, but he's swallowed the small little pill of the Capitol providing for all. Fools, the both of them.

And most foolish of them all is himself, for thinking that he ever had a chance of back to District Eight.

 **Antimony Sinebad, 15  
** **District Three Male**

He's made a fool of himself, hasn't he?

Antimony flushes at the fallen plate at his feet - it's not like him to be clumsy, but the stress has gotten to him. If he had been in his normal presence of mind, he wouldn't have dropped the plate onto the lush red carpet and spread the crumbs of baked goods that he had collected all over the floor.

Quickly, he picks up his mess before anyone else sees that he's dropped the plate. It's something that he knows how to do well - if he messes something up, it's not a big deal. What _is_ a big deal is remaining calm and cleaning up his own messes. If a jockey lets himself get cocky, worried, or anything at all, and doesn't seize back the calm he needs to focus on an important race, he's going to tumble off the horse and into the sea of hooves that gallop across the track. You can make a mistake, but you can never, _never_ let it go unfixed.

But today, the stress is getting to him.

Sitting down on a chair, he observes the others in the room while eating a particularly large piece of custard pie. The creamy confection tastes lovely, but what he wants to see is how the others operate.

And he sees just that.

Electra seems to be simple enough, sitting next to Kaitlynn and making elaborate gestures as she explains something about quantum mechanics. She's one of _those_ kids from Three, the ones who go to school instead of working or rotting away in the mazes of tents and homes outside of the main cities. Those ones are the future of Three, the ones who'll get an education and become leaders in their fields while finding the next big idea. He hates them all.

But then again, maybe they won't all get those fancy positions in the cities. She's been reaped for the Hunger Games, same as him, hasn't she?

Kaitlynn is similar to Electra, but she has more guarded tendencies - she clutches her fork tightly, her feet are clamped to the floor, and everything about her just seems _tense_ \- and she's slow to speak. Kaitlynn is somebody who measures her words. Antimony likes that in a person. It's always good to know that he's speaking with someone who values how she speaks.

And then there's Freya, now walking over to Antimony with painted cheeks and a ruby-red smile. "And here is our Antimony! Are you hiding yourself away from us? Don't worry, dearie, we don't bite."

Antimony smiles back at her, his just as false as the yellow-and-green wig the young woman sports on her head. "I hope I don't bite either."

 **Magnolia Rosa-Tran, 18  
** **District Seven Female**

She keeps her arms folded around her stomach, protective of the small body inside of her own. It doesn't look like much: at five months, there isn't much of a baby bump for Lee to cradle.

But she'll cradle it all the same.

Timber has been staring at her for their entire time on the train, always glancing down at her stomach after finishing conversations with his mentor, Joe. She doesn't blame him. If she was a tribute who was paired with some crazy pregnant woman, she'd give it more than a few side-glances as well.

But she _is_ the pregnant woman. That's strange to think - she hasn't had much time to think about what's actually happening to her and her baby ever since she tried to cry into Tim's shoulder but discovered that the tears wouldn't come out. Something just isn't giving up inside her - she feels stunned.

Perhaps it'll hit her soon that she's heading to the Hunger Games. But for now, she's alright with the fact that she doesn't need to cry.

And now here her male counterpart comes to sit with her, sitting down heavily on the bench she has been resting on for the past half-hour. "How many months are you along?" he asks, blushing at the question. "I mean, I've seen pregnancies before, but I was really young when my mom had my sister. I'm not, you know, very good at this."

Lee smiles at the young, standing up to stretch her arms. She's starting to feel cramped, sitting still for so long. She needs to _move_! But she answers the question in due time, not wanting to let him feel awkward. She knows what it's like. "I'm five months along. In four months, I'll give birth. Well, I suppose not now."

"Oh." A rare frown flashes across Timber's face as he ponders the thought, a fascinating sight to Lee. She hasn't seen the boy do anything but smile ever since they were escorted off of the stage. "That's not very fair of the Capitol, is it?"

"No, I suppose that it isn't very fair of the Capitol to allow that to happen," she agrees with the young boy. It's strange to criticize what's been preached to her as her saviour all her life, but it's true. "Not very fair at all."

 **Tourmaline DeMetz, 18  
** **District One Female**

She sips a long, thin glass of juice and watches the television screen, eyes narrowing as it shifts to District One's reaping. She wants to take in everything she can. After all, it will be her first impression of the tributes that she'll be fighting against - a moment that the instructors at the Academy always stressed to take advantage of. If she can glean any of their motivations, fears, or weaknesses, she can take advantage of that.

It'll be one step closer for her to winning the Hunger Games.

Duchess is jubilant as she settles down onto the couch that directly faces the television, laughing to one of the victors - is it Ben? Is it Diamonique? - about a joke they're sharing. "I hope we have one of the outer-districts who crap themselves on the stage. Always good to see that we have someone we can play with for the cameras."

"I wonder if we'll have one of those, indeed." Tourmaline personally would prefer less of the young, small tributes who bawl their eyes out. Even if Duchess views them as easy targets, Tourmaline doesn't feel as comfortable with the thought of fighting little kids. She wants someone who's her match, someone that she can feel honourable fighting.

The instructors always disapproved of that point of view back at the Academy. They said that it was weak to feel sympathy for the other tributes, and reminded sentimental trainees that their sympathy could be exploited by a young child who knows how to use a knife.

Yes, she just has to be careful. Being careful is what will keep her alive.

And as the District Three reapings come to a close, she watches for any of that spark that she's been warned about from tributes from the district. Her mentors have said that if she sees it, she needs to be ready to fight it and put it out. She's not sure if she sees any dangerous brilliance in the two tributes, one quivering and the other steadfast, but she'll take care of them just the same. She's not going to be taken down by a Three who's too smart for their own good.

Better safe than sorry.

 **Callous Lecket, 17  
** **District Ten Male**

Better being safe than sorry, Callous reflects as he continues to watch the reapings on the large television screen. The mentor that's been appointed to watch over the victorless District Ten, some woman who he's forgotten to learn the name of, is eating popcorn with her legs folded on top of a chair while watching the reapings as well. "That boy from Two is a bit of a babe, isn't he?"

Callous gives the woman a strange look, then turns back to the screen. Capitolites can be strange. "I… I suppose." The District Four reapings fascinate him more, the boy from Four eagerly volunteering to be the one to stand up on the stage and wave to the crowd while the girl from Four does it less certainly. She's not someone who seems like a career, she doesn't seem like she should be the one heading to the Games.

Then again, he shouldn't judge. Who knows how eager she is to fight in the Games? She volunteered, after all, and that means that she must be dangerous in some way. Shelby Doran, or at least that's what he thinks she's called from when she tells the audience what her name is, is not someone to be trifled with.

Neither are tributes from District Five, both standing tall in front of the crowd. The boy seems to be small for his age, but the girl is the real surprise. She's volunteered for some child for Panem-knows-what reason, and now is staring at the cameras with a strange look in her eyes.

He likes the look of her, he does. If they weren't fighting to the death, Callous would like to get to know her better.

But he doesn't want to trust a volunteer.

Ceres doesn't trust her either, from what he's seen of her reaction to the screen when Colleen Tosse walked on. She's someone who's wary as well.

"Do you think either of the District Six tributes will go far?" he asks her, wondering what she'll answer.

Ceres looks back with a startled glance, dark hair mussed up from leaning back in the chair. "Oh, the boy and the girl? I think the boy seems strong, and so does the girl - but she seems off. I think she's one of those who'll seem strong at the start but will die - I'm sorry, it's weird to say that. It doesn't feel right to talk about other people who are going to die."

"Yeah."

They both sit in silence, trying to ignore the fact that they're counted among that number of those headed off to die.

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
** **District Six Male**

The kids from District Nine are a strange combination, thinks Jackson as he continues to watch the reapings. The girl seems like she's a strong person, from the way she mounts the stage and keeps her composure while watching the crowd just as intently as they're watching her. She looks almost regal standing there - especially juxtaposed with the boy, a small little guy who's lip is wavering a bit under the lights of the cameras that must be surrounding the stage.

The poor boy.

But Armani is paying no attention to the screen, instead silently crying into a pillow on the other side of the room. Jackson opens his mouth to try to comfort her, then pauses. She probably doesn't want to be comforted right now, especially since their escort is trying - and failing - to do the same as Jackson was about to do.

Dashiell Remore seems to be out of his league while trying to comfort his tribute, something rare to see from the old man. Jackson is used to seeing him having all of the answers, not letting anyone best him or take his spotlight as he announces the reapings.

"You always have the answers," Selena had told him when she had visited him in the goodbye rooms. Jackson flushes while remembering what had happened.

When he told her that he loved her and had been too afraid of rejection to admit it…

When Selena said that she had felt the same way…

How they had almost kissed in the room, staring into each other's eyes until the peacekeepers had taken her out of the room and told him that it was time to head to the train…

He blinks, realizing that the recaps are over. With one last glance at the boy from Twelve, who looks stronger than what Jackson expected him to be, the reapings change to a discussion with the host of this year's Interviews.

Doug yawns, his face haggard in the evening light. "I think I'm going to head off to bed - you two better try to do the same. Isa and I can both tell you that staying up late for these nights won't do you any good. The best thing we can do is get some sleep, and talk about how you two will look for allies tomorrow. You know, the boys from Twelve and Ten seemed fairly friendly. Would you like to try to connect with one of them, Jackson?"

"Oh, I haven't thought much about it," Jackson confesses. "I think I'll sleep on it. It's been a long day."

"Sleep well!" Isa waves to Jackson with a friendly smile. "The beds are more comfortable than you can imagine, I _promise_."

Jackson waves back, opening the door and walking into the hall.

He's tired, he's nervous, and he has a craving for something sweet.

But first, he needs to give his mind a break and _go to sleep_.

 **Arisa Fetch, 14  
** **District Twelve Female**

She whimpers, trying to bite back the tears that just _have_ to come to her in the middle of the night. She's tried to sleep, but it's hard to when she's going to have to fight the other tributes to death. She hates that thought, hates everything about the fact that she's going to - no, she can't say that she's going to die because that's when she'll have given up.

She won't make it through the next week if she believes that she's going to die.

Arisa sits up in the large, fluffy bed, pushing away the large spread of blankets. It's too hot in here - too hot to breathe, too hot to think. She walks to the strange device in the corner of the room - the glowing words on its screen telling her that it's a thermostat - and turns down the temperature in the room. Maybe if it feels a bit more like home, it'll be easier to sleep.

That's the worst part of it all, she thinks - it's that this isn't home. Ashira thinks that Arisa is doing just fine in the train, that she's being stoically calm because she hasn't panicked about the Games like other girls her age might, but she's still scared. She just doesn't let herself break down in the same way.

She tries to reclaim the calm that she knows that she has, breathing in and out deeply. The pyjamas that she chose for the night are comfortable on her skin, and she sees small lights in the distance as the train continues to steam towards the Capitol. They must be close to some town in one of the districts that the train must travel to in order to get to its destination.

The thought of being close to other people, the thought of being close to _normal_ comforts her, and she's finally able to blink away those dratted tears. Now, she's going to try to go to bed. She can find that hope in the morning.

Hope, something that she should have but can't seem to find. She knows that she needs it, so she wracks her brain for something to take hope from. What will happen in the future? What good might happen? What can keep her calm?

And after thinking long and hard about it, she realizes that the hope she's needed has always been there. Arisa just needed to calm back down to find it.

She settles back down into the bed, and the train rocks her to sleep.

 **Fraser Killick, 18  
** **District Four Male**

It's surreal to be on the train heading to the Games, on the same train that three victors have ridden on to the Capitol before coming back with victory in their hands. He could be the fourth to do the same, to ride home with the girl he loves in his arms and with the knowledge that he'll never have to worry about others looking down on him again.

But truthfully, the best part about being on the train is Mags.

Magdalene Flanagan is still drop-dead gorgeous to Fraser, to the point where even she seems to notice that he's staring at her. Maybe she thinks that he's just another one of those stupid volunteers from Four, which would explain why she's been spending more time with Shelby. Even though the girl is under Magdalene's care, Fraser still feels a bit jealous. Why does _Shelby_ get all of Magdalene's attention?

"Hey, Magdalene, do you know how the alliance will be working this year?" he asks, hoping to at least speak to the victor. "Has District One and Two said anything about how they're going to work with us, or is it just the same as always?"

"Same as always," she begins to reply, frowning a bit. "Well, there's Shelby - I don't know how she'll be working with everyone this year. Have you made up your mind, Shelby? I know that this is still all new to you, but if you have any ideas I'd love to hear them."

"Oh, I think that I'd like to be alone. From what you've told me, I don't think that the alliance would be very good for me. Maybe I'll do better if I'm not with the others - I don't want to be reliant on them." Shelby is satisfied with her answer, turning back to her breakfast of a sticky cinnamon bun and some eggs.

"Wait, you're not going to work with the careers and me?" Fraser is surprised by her answer. Why wouldn't she want to work with him? They had done well in the island challenge, hadn't they? They would be a great pair, and she's willing to toss it all away because she doesn't want to rely on the careers. What?

Maybe it's a ploy to keep Mags away from Fraser - if Shelby's on her own, they won't be mentored in the same setting. After all, Mags would want to keep Shelby's strategy private, right?

Well, Fraser won't let that happen. He won't let the one he loves be dragged away by a rogue.

He'll have to deal with Shelby later. But for now, he'll put on a fake smile and pretend that everything's fine.

 **Enyo Bedford, 18  
** **District Two Female**

Everything seems to be fine. Well, she knows that it should be fine. She got herself all the way to the Games, hadn't she? She's achieved the goal that she tossed her family away for.

And now what?

She hasn't thought much about what she'll be doing next in the few days. These last two days have been so overwhelming that she's just been trying not to meltdown in front of one of her mentors, even trying one of those _stupid_ breathing tricks that her roommate liked to use to calm down every day as a last resort. It kind of worked.

But now here she is, standing at the front of the glass and steel train that is rocketing towards the Capitol. She can see the mountains that it's surrounded by in the distance.

Aeson is performing some type of stretching routine, bending over to touch his toes and grunting with effort as he twists around - rather like a snake, she thinks with a smile - to reach out as far as he can. "Oh, hey Enyo. Want to join in?"

She nods, bending down to easily perform the work-out routine. When they get into push-ups and sit-ups, Aeson can outperform her due to just having more muscle than her, but she can keep up with him for everything else. Aeson gives a low whistle when they finish, impressed.

"Thanks - I've been keeping myself fit for-for-for the last year-years, I guess." Enyo frowns when she stutters over a word, but continues. Aeson would probably find it weird if she paused for too long. "Are you excited to go to the parade?"

"I guess it'll be fun, but I want to see how the other tributes can perform in battle. The training days are always the most useful, in my opinion. You can see how everyone performs. Who's strong, who's weak, who's holding back: all things to look out for so we can get rid of the big threats early. Right?" Aeson gives a big smile, and Enyo smiles back before going back to a neutral expression. She doesn't like her smile.

"Well, I'm excited for the training," she says. Wait, didn't Aeson say that? She's always two steps behind on a conversation. "It will definitely be nice to meet all of the alliance. Do you think that every district will be a part of it this year?"

"Well, not _every_ district," Aeson says with a chuckle. "But I think we'll have a full pack this year. If we keep together, Enyo, we'll do well. I trust you well enough, and I hope you're the same with me."

"Yes, I trust! I mean, I trust you," Enyo replies. They grin at each other, then Aeson glances down and dashes off, muttering something about having to go to the bathroom.

And now she's alone, but Enyo doesn't mind that. After all, she has a goal that she can finally work towards again - she's going to win these Hunger Games.

And after that?

She won't think about that for now.

 **Aloie Church, 12  
** **District Eleven Female**

She's felt so scared and small and useless on this train, but all of that seems to go away after they emerge from the tunnel in the mountains that seemed to go on _forever_ and continued into this new world of light and glass and _oh Panem there's a dam taller than any building in Eleven and she has no idea what to make of it._

"We're almost here," a voice behind her says, and Aloie's startled for a moment by her district partner before settling back down. Luke's been strange on the train ride - there was a moment where he tried to talk to her alone about how she had saved his life a year ago or so, and she didn't know what to do there either - but she can tell that he means well. This tall, thin stranger who always seems to be frowning wants the best for her, and she can take comfort in that fact.

She smiles back at him, giving a flash of the teeth that Cora had once said were "too bright for your own good, my girl!". They're starting to come into the Capitol, and she presses her round face against the window to stare at all of the towers made of glass and people with skin that seems to be painted in green and white and blue and every colour under the sun. Their clothes are even more vibrant, with shades of orange and pink she didn't think could exist.

Aloie doesn't know if she likes it.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Luke mutters, watching some of the people yell something inaudible to them as the train starts to slow. "But they don't care about us, none of them. We're just lambs being given up for their feast of blood."

"What?" asks Aloie, not paying enough attention to Luke to have heard what he said, but enough attention to hear the word blood. Did he cut himself? Did this train have poultices like the ones she made out of leaves back in Eleven?

"Oh, never mind me. I'm just a fool who's going to get himself killed." Luke goes back to staring at the window. "You should try smiling at them, Aloie. They wouldn't like me, but I bet that they'd love you."

"Why me? I'm just a girl from Eleven. And I'm small - and plump like a barrel, like Cora always says. I thought that they would like the people from Two and One, right?" Aloie is confused by Luke, but tries smiling at the crowd. It's not hard, she's used to being positive for others, and she's rewarded with a volley of screams that can be heard through the thick glass. "Wait, do they actually like me?"

"If you keep your smile," Luke whispers. "Sean said the same thing. You're the one that they'll like the most. Please stay happy for them, for _me_. Do you promise?"

"O-okay, I will. I mean, I'll try." Aloie looks back out of the window, the train pulling to a stop. She's suddenly aware of all of the people that surround the train - so many, and with so few peacekeepers to watch them all!

But she'll keep smiling.

For Luke. For Cora.

For herself.

 **Another chapter! How are you enjoying the tributes so far?**

 **We're heading into the Capitol now, so we'll have eight chapters with three povs each for the tributes. After that, we'll head into the Games where the real action will begin. Excitement!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	18. Parade: Shine, Shine, Shine

**Carameuse Heloise, 48**  
 **Capitol Citizen**

"So we have a murder victim? Who is it, anyway?" Fiammetta asks, frowning. She looks tired today - has she been sleeping well? Carameuse can't tell, Fiammetta's good at hiding her emotions. It's one of the reasons why she's been President for so long.

" _He_. And I've seen him before - I don't know the man's name, but I'll be looking for it. The murderer will be somewhere, on the train - no one could possibly get out of the train, and I have a feeling that he'd rather be on it anyway. After all, he's trying to kill _you_ \- and I doubt that this was a suicide." Carameuse stares at Fiammetta, hoping that she's getting through to her friend. "You need to stay in your room - with armed guards at the door, of course -and just wait, while the task force interviews all of the possible suspects. We have a lot of work to do, and I don't want you to be at risk."

"Don't talk down to me." Fiammetta breaks her calm for a moment with the sharp comment, then retreats back into her icy facade. "I will, of course, but I have a right to know what's happening. Harrison, do you have any idea of when the train will be operable once more?"

"In twenty-seven hours, according to the crew," replies a man with a shocking crop of blue bangs that fall over his eyes. He pushes them back, slicking back his hair, then gives a grin. "We'll be moving on towards Six soon - although we'll have to skip Six, Five, and Four due to the delay."

"Of course." Fiammetta turns back to Carameuse, fixing her hair as she does so. It's still as red as it was when Carameuse first met her - back before Fiammetta became President. "So I'll stay here, and you'll be in charge of investigations. I trust you, Carameuse. But remember - you are still working for _me_. Don't do anything that I wouldn't want you to - make Panem proud."

Carameuse is fed up with Fiammetta's determination to play the role of benevolent leader, but she ignores Fiammetta's subtle warning. "I will, of course."

She walks out, feeling Fiammetta's stare on her back with every step.

 **Electra Mancuso, 16  
District Three Female**

 _Rip!_

She grates her teeth and tries not to pay attention to the women hovering around her, plucking stray hairs on her body and trying to make her look as good as any beauty queen in the Capitol.

Electra seriously doubts that they'll be able to do it.

"Oh, sweetie, could you bend a bit that way - no, not that way, my that way - yes, that's perfect! You have another few strips worth of body hair - my, Threes don't shave at all! Isn't it quaint, Priscilla?"

"Yes, quaint it is. But the Capitol wants you to look your best… Electra?" Another woman with a head full of blue locks and tattoos tracing down her throat peers down at Electra, batting her eyelashes. Electra doesn't like her. "Speak up, child - your name is Electra, isn't it?"

Flustered, Electra manages to reply to the strange woman. She hates being put on the spot. "Y-yes, my name is Electra."

"Oh good, I don't want to lose that bet I have with my sister for who memorizes everyone's name first this year. Winner makes the loser cough up a few sesterces for sponsorships - I've lost too many times to count, but this will surely be mine to win! Would you like to add to the pool, Winnie?" The women titter as they continue to clean Electra's body, hoisting her up from the table to hose her down with more cold water. She hates the feeling of being blasted by the water, and starts to shiver when they help her back onto the table and start towelling her off.

She feels like an animal.

She pushes back at them when they start combing her hair, trying to yank away from the offending comb. One of the women gasps, putting a hand to her cherry-red mouth in shock. "Dearie, we need you to stay still so that we can get you ready this year! If you don't stay still, you won't be able to go out in time! We wouldn't want that, would we?"

Electra glares back, her lips forming several insults before she decides to stick with the safe reply. "No, ma'am."

The women soon finish with her, thankfully, and Electra's given a towel to wrap around her body to preserve what's left of her dignity. Her skin feels raw, and she grimaces at her chafed legs. They must have taken off layers of dirt that she didn't know that she had - she can't think of any other reason for why she feels colder than she has before. Perhaps there's a draft in the Prep Centre.

She crosses her legs and looks around at the room, admiring the tiny bookshelf that's tucked into a corner as if it's apologizing for being here. Poor thing - it deserves to be the centre of attention with that woodwork on maple - is it maple? She isn't sure. She's never learned to identify samples of different kinds of wood. She never thought it would be useful - besides, numbers were safer. She prefers staying with her numbers.

"Oh, you - you're _gorgeous_!" Electra flinches when she hears the strange voice, not wanting to look up and see who it is. She wants to go home. "Oh, Electra - you'll look stunning today! Just you wait - we're going to shock everyone today."

Biting her lip, Electra looks up at the man. He's standing with one hand on his chin and the other on his hip, clothed with a jumpsuit of green silk and white sashes that tie together the outfit. "Three's export to the nation is technology - but technology's not always what you think. We're always clothing you in flashing lights and messy coding patterns - I want something a bit more… _glamorous_. Do you understand?"

"No," she replies. She didn't understand a thing of what the man's said - his accent is so lilting that she could only pick up on a few words.

"Oh, you districts are quaint - simpleminded, my friends would say, but that isn't very kind of us. Now, let's get you into your dress. Arms up, darling!"

Electra raises her arms, still hesitant. Oh well, she'll find out what he'll do with this eventually.

Perhaps after this, she can go to the apartment that Kaitlynn talked about and sit in her bedroom and pretend that this isn't happening.

That would be nice.

 **Tristan Locke, 18  
District Eight Male**

He lets out a large yawn, causing Mona to bend away from him in her bulky factory outfit. "Don't get me sick with whatever bug you have - I've got enough of my own, idiot."

"I _yawned_ , Mona - that isn't a cough," Tristan snaps back. They're both annoyed with each other - Mona blathers all day about how sick she is and how she'll die in the Hunger Games, and Tristan glares at her until she gets fed up with him and switches the topic to how her district partner hates her.

Oh, the horror.

"Well, it's close enough with how much saliva you spit out with every word. Mind your p's - your spittle's disgusting," Mona replies. She starts coughing again, muttering something about the soot that covers her brightly coloured outfit. The stylists from Eight have decided that this year, they wanted colour for their tributes - so they're in cunning little outfits with red and white stripes running down the sides of their jackets and pants. But someone else must have wanted to make sure that they didn't have a chance of doing well here: so the outfits are coated in layers of dust and soot.

They almost look like real factory workers - if they had actually done a shift in the bowels of the factory in this get-up.

"I will, Desdemona." Tristan turns away from his district partner before he says something venomous. He's fed up with her, yet she's just a kid. He shouldn't be wasting energy on trying to annoy her back.

He should be the better man.

As Mona continues to moan about something else - hah, that's a pun in and of itself - Tristan stares at the Capitolites in the stands around them. District One is starting to head out to the crowds, the roaring crowds of a thousand different colours that scream - no, they _roar_ for the tributes.

It's louder than it is on television.

And he can see why they're roaring - District One looks stunning in their robes with colours that fit right in with the Capitol. No, they look _better_ than the Capitol - the girl is in a white-gold dress that fades through both of the colours seamlessly, gems encrusted at the bottom of the gown like fruits falling from the trees where they used to grow. And the boy - the girl? - is in the same outfit, the only difference being that theirs fades from silver to gold.

By the time District Two heads towards the crowds, the boy in typical gladiator fashion while the girl is dressed in similar garments but in the colour of light gold that resembles the rising sun, Mona decides that it's time to moan again. "Have you seen District Seven? They look almost as bad as us - at least we'll have company in the lower echelons of parade rankings. Do you think this will affect our score? As if it wasn't bad enough for me to be sick, but now we have horrible outfits. Look at Four! This really, truly -"

"Just - just - just shut _up_!" Tristan snarls, biting his tongue as soon as he says it to her. He bites so hard that he can feel the metallic, suffocating taste of blood filling up his mouth. He probably deserves it - as District Four heads out in their chariots, Mona promptly bursts into tears.

"Go… go _away_!" she howls at him as he tries to console her, desperate to not be seen like this by the Capitolites. "You're _horrible_! Guards, he's attacking me! Help!"

The peacekeepers glance up at their chariot, shrugging before going back to marching. Tristan knows that a nasty sneer is starting to take over his face, filled with contempt for this stupid little child that he's stuck with.

At least, he thinks to himself as a peacekeeper prods their bay-coloured horses to dart towards the stands, it fits with the standard the Capitol must have set for them. The rebel and the whiner, huh?

Well, he'll play along for now.

 **Sasha Sone, 17  
District Five Male**

He's not going to go along with this stupid game that the Capitolites are making them play.

"Sasha - you do know that you're supposed to stand up and _wave_ to them, right?" Colleen whispers through clenched teeth while smiling at the crowd, letting them glimpse her decently white teeth. She's definitely won some sort of genetic lottery to have those types of teeth in District _Five_ , of all places. Sasha doesn't even know if they have a proper dentist in the district.

"I like it better down here," he replies. She almost rolls her eyes at him - Sasha can see how she resists the urge to - but instead settles for a smaller smile. She's playing the game - what a fool. "Aren't you the fool? I thought you were supposed to be the mystery girl - but no, I guess you've settled for desperation."

Colleen shrugs, adjusting her toque. "I guess I'll probably die - why would I win? But if I'm going to get this chance, I want to take every chance I get to win. I suggest you do the same. There's still time to do something - take some dough and throw!"

"No." Sasha tosses away his toque, not bothering to see where the fluffy white chef's hat lands. He's sure that someone will pick it up anyway. "Have fun, chef-girl."

"I will!" Colleen gives a large grin to the crowd, and Sasha's surprised to see that it's genuine. She's really in her element here - taking advantage of the fact that Five's too cluttered to properly define it as anything but a place of electric power, their stylists dressed them as chefs in an attempt to demonstrate some of the uses of electricity. They've been given dough to toss and a fake oven to work with, and Colleen gives it her all. She kneads the dough, dusts flour onto it, and - to the delight of the crowd - gives a chef's kiss before tossing it up in the air.

To Sasha's disgust, it sticks the landing perfectly.

Someone tosses a rose up at them, and Sasha scowls at it. He doesn't see why these Capitolites pretend to adore their victims - why are they even bothering with this? He'd rather see honest ones - ones who know that they're killing him. At least they'd have the courtesy to not tie him up with a ribbon and bow before tossing him into the arena.

Colleen grabs the rose before Sasha has the chance to toss it back, sniffing it delicately before throwing it towards the crowd. It doesn't make it even close to the large stands of screaming Capitolites, clad in blue and green and red and dozens of colours in between - their skin almost as diverse as the clothes they're clad in.

In some cases, it's the clothes they're _not_ dressed in that's more eye-catching. What a strange place.

But soon enough, the chariot ride ends as their horses sidle up to the square that the President's balcony overlooks. Sasha doesn't bother to look up, only listening to their speech about how they're making such a sacrifice for the nation and all of the lies that Capitolites like to stuff into speeches so they won't offend the tributes.

And then, just like that, it's over.

Colleen looks over at him, a smile fluttering on her lips. She looks intrigued by how angry he is - and he hates the way that her gaze probes him. "You okay?"

"I'm _fine_ ," he spits back. Colleen raises an eyebrow, unfazed by his outburst. "Now, let's get out of this get-up and go to the apartment."

"Hey, we're better than we would be if we were with District Seven - did you see? They had to be _trees._ Imagine having to stand there for almost an hour in scratchy, artificial bark that you can't get off of you. It's a wonder that they didn't topple over." Colleen laughs at the thought, and shoots a glance over at the pair. The younger boy is helping the woman down, and Sasha sees an expression of pain on her face as she follows him. Hey, isn't she the pregnant one?

"I… I guess," he mutters, looking away. He doesn't bother watching the rest of the tributes as they go about their first attempts at making alliances and threatening the competition, trying not to cry or smirk at the thought of dying, of _killing_ with these people, trying to observe everyone here. He's not going to do that.

He wants to be alone.

 **Umm, I've got nothing to say. Enjoy! We have seven more of these, and then we'll reach the bloodbath. Woohoo!**

 **Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	19. Training I: Off To The Races

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
Capitol Citizen**

She doesn't like the look of her suspects.

The six men and women, one of whom must be Fiammetta's stalker, hang around the train car where they've been sequestered. A woman with long green hair looks over at Carameuse, a glint in her eyes, then turns back to the bar where the bartender is whipping up yet another drink for the guests. Carameuse decided herself to put them in this car - maybe the threat of being discovered and the promise of fine liquor will loosen their tongues. There are other reasons, of course, but for now it's best to keep them in here. She hopes it is.

She'll find out soon enough, at least.

Snow cakes the windows of the car in clumps of white, some starting to slide off as they melt in the warm sun. They leave wet, blurry streaks on the side of the windows, smearing the glass and preventing its inhabitants from getting a good look outside. They're all caged inside of this car, with only Carameuse to watch them - barring the dozen-odd peacekeepers waiting outside the car just in case.

"Well, well, well," one of the men sneers. He's got golden eyes and golden hair that seems to shimmer, his nails manicured in shades of blue and with a suit that hides how thin his matchstick neck reveals him to be. "Looks like one of us is wanted for murder. That's what we're here for, correct?"

Carameuse nods, her eyes revealing nothing to the suspects. She takes out a photograph and displays it to the six, still watching them with a guarded gaze. "None of you have a proper alibi for the death of this young man - all of you have a motive for murder. But why an avox? What would have an avox done to deserve such a death?" She gestures to the chalk outline where the body of the avox had been found, a ruddy streak of blood splashed against the wallpaper.

The woman with green hair pales.

"A motive for _what_?" a man clad in an expertly tailored black suit and with oddly pointed ears barks, his eyes narrowing. Everything about him looks like some strange mix between a rottweiler and an elf to Carameuse - bulky yet lithe, pointed yet gruff, sturdy and nimble. "My dear, I am a _gamemaker_ \- I have no reason to murder. I don't know about these others, but I suspect one of them is the one you're looking for."

The others start shouting in protest at the man, one older man looking ready to punch him as he steps closer. Carameuse coughs, and the group falls into ashamed silence.

At least they didn't fully resort to physical violence.

Yet.

It's going to be a long day.

 **Arisa Fetch, 14  
District Twelve Female**

"Welcome one, welcome all! I'm glad to introduce you to the training centre, where you'll be spending your time over the next three days. I'm a bit off-topic, but I hope you enjoy your time here. You'll need it." The instructor that's in charge of them all pauses for dramatic effect, and Arisa stifles a yawn. She isn't very worried about the training - no, it takes a lot to panic her. She'll bide her time, learning a few skills and figuring out what to do here.

No, she'll take her time here.

"Now, you'd all do well to pay attention to what the instructors have to say to you - it might very well save your life. None of you will know what the arena will look like until you enter it, but you will know one thing - it's likely to kill you if you don't know how to properly use the survival skills that we teach here. That's why we have a training centre. Even if you think it's unnecessary to do so, it would be a smart choice to learn a few new skills. Who knows, it might just save your life!" The instructor chuckles at his own joke, then pretends to cough twice to cover the uncomfortable silence that follows. "Well, remember to not fight with one another, follow the rules, and to learn what you can. You're free to go."

He steps aside, and the tributes slowly walk towards the different stations around the centre. Some make a beeline for the fire making station, eager to keep themselves warm on the colder nights in the arena, but Arisa heads to the trapping station. She'd like to get to a spot that not many will go to - she'd rather stay away from the bigger tributes.

It wouldn't do to be noticed by them today.

The careers all head towards the weapons stations, eager to show themselves off to the rest of the tributes, and Arisa settles in for the talk from the instructor that she's chosen for the morning. The woman seems to like her job well enough, demonstrating how to tie quick and sturdy knots to catch prey inside of the arena. After a few attempts, Arisa's able to do the same - testing the noose by poking a finger inside and pulling at her handiwork. To her delight, the snare tightens around her finger.

She might be able to do this in the arena - all she needs is some rope.

As she heads to a small rope-making session, right next to a knot-tying station that the boy from Three is sitting at while tying fancy loops that he strings around the amused instructor, the girl from Six bumps into her. Arisa stumbles, yet manages to regain her balance quickly. "Ah, careful!"

"Oh - I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean it," the girl hastily apologizes. "I should have been more careful, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Arisa replies. It's a bit amusing to listen to the girl from Six apologize profusely for such a small thing - it's kind of nice, actually. It's nice to know that someone's sorry for what they do. "I'm Arisa, by the way. You are?"

"Armani DeCormick is my name!" the girl replies, giving her a smile. Arisa notes her plainness - her hair's muddy brown and straight, with grey-blue eyes peering out from her bangs. There's nothing about the girl that jumps out at her - she likes that. "I talk a lot, just so you know. My sibling says that I talk too much, but I don't think that's really the issue - it's that there's too much to discuss! How am I supposed to express everything if I don't have the time?"

Arisa laughs, settling down at the rope-making station with her legs crossed. "I suppose you're right - would you like to help me with this? I'd like to have… well, I'd like company."

"Sure!" And the girls sit down to listen to the instructor, Armani piping in with insights of her own every few sentences. It's loud, and rowdy, and they barely get anything done until the instructor teaches Armani a skill that takes too much concentration to properly converse with Arisa, but Arisa likes it.

Maybe, just maybe, it's the start of a friendship here.

She'd like that.

 **Duchess Coruscate, 16  
District One Male**

He adjusts his uniform, feeling uncomfortable in the tight fabric. He doesn't like being in this - he'd rather have something bright and exciting and new on, but it's what all of the tributes are supposed to wear in the training centre if they want to meet the other tributes - well, learn skills, but he's here to meet the careers.

He already has all of the skills he needs, after all.

"Hey, all! Here, let's head to a station so we don't seem too awkward. We have to stick together, right?" Tourmaline is in her element now as she gathers the careers together, flashing warm smiles to the pack and welcoming in the boy from Four. The girl from Four isn't here - interesting, he thinks. After all, she's volunteered. What could have happened to _her_?

Perhaps Four doesn't quite have the quality that they're supposed to have this year. Then again, do they ever?

"Hey! I'm Aeson - this is Enyo, my district partner although you knew that, didn't you?" The boy from Two laughs, and Duchess hides a smile. Perhaps he'll enjoy those who decided to show up.

"Good to meet you, Aeson! This is Duchess - my district partner - and I suppose you are… Fraser?" Tourmaline gestures to the boy from Four, and he looks up with a grin. "Good to meet you all! I suppose Shelby didn't show, did she now?"

"Shelby's not the type to enter the pack," Fraser apologizes. "It's a long story. But it's good to meet everyone!" Duchess notes that he'll be the dumb muscle of the alliance - Aeson seems too wary to take that position. It's always good to have one, though, so he waves to Fraser and gives him a pat on the back.

Oh, he'll be glad for the formalities to be over with so they can actually _discuss_ what they'll be doing.

"I'm Enyo - good to meet all. Are we going to train or?" The girl from Two looks curiously at the rest of the pack, and Duchess sees how much she's straining to keep herself looking as normal as possible. She's trying hard to fit in - what's she hiding?

"I mean, we could - or we could discuss a few things," Tourmaline replies. "We should start making plans for what we're doing in the Games, if we want to recruit any outliers, who we'll target. We need to plan."

"Might as well head to a survival station if we're going to do that!" Duchess laughs, slipping through the pack to walk to the camouflage station. The trainer looks surprised to see a career willing to practice skills like this, but doesn't question it as Duchess sits down and takes a tray of paints. "Anyone ready to join me?"

In a few minutes, the careers are all clustered in a circle and dabbing on paints to their faces and arms. Duchess practices the skill on his arm, taking care to make smooth, delicate patterns form across his skin. He likes the design - it's relaxing to create. "Well, any first impressions on the others?"

"Shelby shouldn't be a threat," Fraser blurts out. Duchess raises an eyebrow. He's replied quickly to the question - _too_ quickly, perhaps. "She's not very good with weapons, from what I can tell - I don't know her well, but she won't attack us. She wouldn't even know to."

"Didn't you train together? How does the Four Academy even work?" Aeson asks, slapping on green paint to his cheeks as he smears what might have been a perfectly good leaf if it wasn't for his fingers being the size of sausages. "Do y'all even have an Academy?"

"It's more - well, it's impromptu, I guess. But we train - and we're good at it," Fraser replies defensively. Tourmaline takes a moment to stretch, disrupting the conversation - and deescalating whatever tensions were beginning to form between the two. She really is quite the leader, Duchess thinks with a smile. She'll be able to calm down any fragile male egos that threaten to shatter all over the alliance - she'll probably tie them all together through sheer force to keep anyone from leaving if she has to. She's taking the Games seriously.

He's glad to have her on his side.

 **Emma von Hapsburg, 17  
District Nine Female**

It's getting close to the end of the day, and Emma takes care to hurry up the rock wall that she's climbing before the instructors can tell her to get down. She doesn't want to stop now, not when she's so close to the top.

She just wants the chance to finish.

She finds her way up easily, taking care to choose the easiest route so she doesn't get caught in a path that she can't climb her way out of, and rings a silver bell at the top of the wall before signalling to one of the trainers below to belay her down. A few thrusts against the wall later so that she doesn't mush her face into the surface, and she's climbing out of her harness so that she can leave. Ah, it's good to know that she can do this. Hopefully, it'll come in handy in the arena if she finds herself in a tight spot.

She'll just have to figure out if she can without the harness.

"Hey! Hey, you - Nine! Can I talk to you for a second?" A tall, muscular teen with green eyes and tousled brown hair - he must not brush it for it to be so knotted - rushes up to her, armed with a hesitant smile, rushes up to her. "Alright, this is going to sound stupid because we haven't met and we haven't talked and we haven't really had a chance to learn about each other or properly trust one another, let alone the fact that we're going to _kill_ each other in the next week or something -"

"You want an alliance?" Emma asks, cutting to the actual question before he has a chance to continue speaking.

"Not any alliance - I've gotten the boys from Five and Eight, and maybe the one from Seven. We're going to form something to rival the careers - maybe even stop them in their tracks. Are you in?" The boy gives her a grin, hopeful that Emma will agree.

Truth be told, she doesn't know what she's going to answer herself.

"So… an alliance with three dudes? Have you considered inviting any of the ladies to the party?" Emma replies, cracking a grin. The boy smiles back, amused. "I honestly don't know what to think - I guess I'll have to meet you all before I make a decision. Nothing personal, I just don't want to fence myself into something so soon."

"Sure, of course! Would you like to come now? We're all by the fire making station - I'm sure we'll have time to talk," the boy says. "I'm Jackson. Emma, right?"

"Yeah, Emma. Good to meet you!"

"Good to meet you too." Emma smiles as she walks back to the small group, the three boys looking up from the pile of kindling that they're trying to coax into flame to wave to her. "Hey… so, you're the alliance?"

"Jackson's strong," the boy from Seven pipes up. "And Sasha lived on the streets for a while - didn't you, Sasha?" The small boy looks over at the wiry one from Five, who gives a curt nod before going back to flicking rocks together.

"You know, friction fires are the ones you should learn for the arena," Emma finds herself saying to the boys. "It's the one that you'll most likely have materials for - good rope, a stick, a smooth stone, and dry conditions will get you the ember that you need."

"I know how to make a friction fire!" the boy from Seven says, grinning. "I think a lot of people from Seven do - maybe Lee does, although I'm not sure. But she's cool, even though she's not in the alliance."

"I'm sure she is!" replies Emma, amused by the rag-tag group. She might be talking too much to them - she shouldn't share the knowledge that she's accumulated on the train from watching the Games and survival manuals, the small tricks to watch people that she's found while walking through Nine and pretending like she wants to live there, everything. But they're nice - and she can't help it, she'd like to be in an alliance.

She wants to have company. No one wants to be alone, right?

And if they get a bit bigger, just a bit, they might be able to keep themselves from being slaughtered by the careers.

They just might.

 **Next chapter! We're getting through the Capitol quickly :D**

 **Thoughts on the alliances? Thoughts on our tributes? Thoughts on deaths? Feel free to share them in a review! I hope you're all enjoying the ride, because we only have six more chapters before the arena! I'm excited!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	20. Training II: Big Plans

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
Capitol Citizen**

"Cassia Valentine?" she asks, not waiting for the woman with green hair and golden, coy eyes to answer before she continues. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Because you think I murdered that poor man," Cassia murmurs. There's a controlled tremour in her voice, as if she's forcing Carameuse to sympathize with her, to let her go.

Carameuse doesn't like that.

"Why did you tell your colleagues that you wished President Ember was dead?" Carameuse questions suddenly, knowing that it'll catch Cassia off guard. And it does - the woman looks like a volt of electricity's been forced into her veins, her face paling rapidly and her eyes widening in fear. "Nothing goes unnoticed in the Capitol, Cassia. Nothing."

"I - I - I did no such thing," Cassia lies. She must hope to trick Carameuse, but Carameuse can see how the back of her neck begins to turn red, how her eyes shift away from Carameuse's, how she shifts in her chair as if she's searching for a better position to lie in. "How would you know if I did?"

"Here's how I know," Carameuse replies. She opens up the briefcase that she's brought into the room with her, taking out a written statement that she shows the young woman. "Your colleagues didn't appreciate that statement, Cassia. Politics is a funny business - if you choose to fight the wrong battles, you'll fall pretty quickly. You thought that you had a chance to express some frustrations, some grievances to your friends, right? You thought that it would be safe with them. I'm sorry that it wasn't."

Cassia's face crumples before she dissolves into tears, burying her head in her arms. "I didn't mean to say that - it was a bad day, and it's so frustrating to see how she handles the districts. They shouldn't be pushed down so harshly. They're dying in front of us, and we do nothing. _Nothing_! And President Ember ignores it in favour of us all. I - I do wish she was dead. There, I said it. But I didn't do anything to her, I would never. Why would that be a part of this case? Is it because she's boarding the train soon?"

Carameuse nods tersely, writing something down on the paper. Cassia's not the one she's searching for - no, unless she's a stellar actress she wouldn't be able to fake the naivete needed to convince

She's safe. For now.

So she moves on.

"Why would you think that someone like myself would be a murderer, of all things?" the dog-elf man prattles on, scowling deeper and deeper as he continues. If it wasn't such a serious moment, Carameuse would giggle - he's still quite the sight. "I've done nothing wrong, I've had a stellar record my entire life, I've never robbed anyone or anything, I've never said anything against the Capitol!"

"It's what you haven't done that worries the president, Mr. Gregoire," Carameuse replies. "Your failure to properly follow instructions from the president during the 21st Games was what first made you suspicious, and the fact that you were in District One on Panem Day did not help manners. I'm sure you are a reasonable man, Mr. Gregoire. Tell me, do you know anything about the sheet of paper found next to every victim in the murders?"

"I knew no such thing! I don't know what you're insinuating, but I did not kill those people. I am not a murderer, Ms. Hel… Heloi..." Mr. Gregoire pauses, struggling to pronounce Carameuse's name properly.

"Excuse me, but wasn't it just a ripped-off piece of paper? Like little notes… I don't know how to describe it." Carameuse looks back to see the bartender, who's leaning over the counter with a cloth in her hand. "Excuse me for interrupting, but I think that a newspaper said that."

"Yes, yes, thank you," Carameuse replies. "You're absolutely right."

She is.

 **Timber Sycamore, 14  
District Seven Male**

"Would you like to join our alliance?" he asks the girl from Four, pointing back to the crowd of tributes that are tentatively becoming what should be the strongest alliance in the Games this year. Well, he hopes that they will. "We're all nice - and if you don't like the careers, we'll protect you. _I'll_ protect you! I'll _walnut_ stop until they leave alone, I promise."

The girl raises an eyebrow, likely amused by Tim's show of bravado. "I think I'd rather be on my own for now - but thank you for the offer! You can tell your friends that I won't do a thing against them."

"Thank you! Have a great day, but now it's time for me to _leaf._ Bye!" Tim waves to the girl from Four - she's nice, he thinks - and runs back to the alliance. He's a bit peeved that he hasn't gotten anyone to join them yet, but he'll surely find someone soon. Maybe the girl from Twelve will listen to him - she seems nice. Or maybe the girl from Eleven, whose sweet smile intrigues him. Yeah, he'll find someone to recruit eventually.

Right?

Oh well. He doesn't wait to see if the girl will follow him, instead sitting down amongst the tributes at their table. They haven't collected anyone else yet, but they're hoping to - Jackson is talking to the boy from Eleven at another table. The careers have been watching them, but Tim doesn't think that it will matter much. All they need is another tribute or two, and they'll have more on their side than the careers do.

And if that happens, the careers won't stand a chance.

"So, what's our plan when we get to the bloodbath?" Emma asks Sasha, tapping her fork against the table impatiently. "We can't just sit down and pretend like this isn't happening - we need action, we need decisions, we need to show the others who's in control. If you're not going to perform like you can, you shouldn't be here."

"Aren't you the saucy one?" Sasha snorts, shoveling pasta into his mouth with a large fork. Tim wrinkles his nose at the egregious display of manners, but doesn't comment on it. Perhaps Sasha hasn't had a chance to properly learn manners, especially if he was homeless or whatnot. "I'll do what you need me to. But I'm not playing along until we get there - there's no point."

"So you're going to endanger the alliance because you're rebel-sympathetic?" Emma narrows her eyes, annoyed with the boy. Tim feels nervous, all of a sudden, but he doesn't want to say anything. Nothing he could say would help at this point. "You'll have a big, rebel-shaped target on all of our backs if you don't shape up soon. None of us want that. _None_ of us."

"Like this alliance isn't filled with sympathizers!" Sasha gestures to Tristan, who reddens while eating a slice of pizza. At least he has the decency to not argue about it. "He's one - it's easy enough to tell - and I'm sure there are more. Oh, Panem, Jackson's got another one for our crew. Great."

"We've got Luke!" Jackson crows, unaware of the sharp glances traded between Emma and Sasha. "Luke, meet the group - Tim, Sasha, Tristan, and Emma. And you said that Aloie might come?"

"I'm protecting Aloie through this. You're accepting her, or I'm not here," replies Luke gruffly. It's silent at the table for an awkward moment, but Jackson attempts to bring the atmosphere back to normal by dropping a glass of water on the table. Emma shrieks with laughter as it splashes over Tristan, and the rest of them hand over napkins to clean the mess up.

It's good that they have Jackson, Tim thinks as he walks to get more napkins. If they didn't, the alliance would fall apart before it had a chance to form properly. They need him as a leader.

And, Tim thinks with a pang of guilt, they need him as a target. None of them would have joined if there wasn't a leader to act as their shield, someone to protect them from the wrath of the careers. If the careers start making plans, Jackson will be at the top of their list.

Better Jackson than him to die, after all.

 **Fraser Killick, 18  
District Four Male**

"So, what's the plan?" Duchess asks once they're all seated at the table, watching them through his guarded expression. He's got narrow, calculating eyes - he's the type who'll see more of a person than they'd like. Fraser just hopes that Duchess doesn't see too much of himself. "We've got to figure out targets, ideas, all of that junk - it's day two and we're closing in on the private sessions. It's time to choose what we do."

"We're going after that little alliance that's filling up with bloodbaths for sure," replies Aeson. He sits confidently with a plate of meat and a large salad, picking the bones clean before quickly eating the lettuce doused with dressing. "The boy from Six, boy from Eight, boy from Five, all of them need to go. And the boy from Eleven - he's got to go, too. I don't want him to be here for long, not with that look in his eyes."

"Girl from Five?" Enyo asks, tapping her fingers on her plate as she waits for an answer. Fraser's a bit confused by the fact that she can't seem to make full sentences, but maybe there's something deeper. It's not like he should judge her for it - she's one of the strongest fighters here nonetheless.

"Is the girl from Five a good target in the bloodbath? She volunteered for a friend, you know - she's old, but she might not be the type that can rival us. I'd like to get rid of the threat we know before the threat that we don't. Let's keep our priorities straight," Aeson continues. "If we chase after unknowns, we're not going to get anywhere."

"Fair enough. Five, Six, Seven, and Eight are our first targets." Tourmaline finishes that portion of the discussion, giving a small, confident smile. She's pretty, poised - but she's not Fraser's type. She's a bit too cold for that, he thinks - leaders never are the attractive ones.

Aeson gives a small nod, and Fraser nods as well. Duchess doesn't nod, but he gives a small smirk - likely the closest he'll come to giving assent. Fraser likes the boy less and less every moment.

But he wouldn't say that to his face.

"Also - what will we do about our… liability?" Tourmaline throws a pointed look towards Shelby, who's eating alone in the corner. "Are we replacing her? If so, the girl from Ten seems smart enough. I wouldn't mind having her on our side."

"Boy from Ten as well?" Enyo looks over at Callous Lecket, who's also eating alone. "Smart, strong - good ally."

"Maybe we should be more careful when choosing allies," Aeson cautions. "I don't want to get ourselves caught - oh, wait, I have to go to the bathroom. Sorry - I'll be back soon."

Duchess raises an eyebrow as the tall boy darts away, disappearing around a corner to the men's washroom. "What's with his bladder?"

"Eh, probably drank too much or something stupid," Fraser laughs. The rest of the table chuckles along with him, and they sit in silence for a bit. Fraser finishes the last of his burger and gives a big grin to the careers, only realizing at the last minute that there's still hamburger meat stuck in his teeth. But who cares? It's not like they're going to kill him for it. He's part of their alliance, even if he disgusts them with bad manners or whatever people get mad about. If Mags was here, he'd be quieter - he'd try to impress her with everything he'd do. He'd do anything for Mags. But this is his _alliance_ \- he doesn't need to be perfect. He just needs to be here.

And right now, they need all the numbers that they can get.

Aeson comes back in a few minutes, laughing to himself about something that he doesn't bother to share with the rest of the table. It's soon time to leave their meals and head back into the training centre, so Tourmaline leads them to the agility course. She's every inch the leader that they need this year, and Fraser's glad to see that she's taking such control - she'll lead them well.

And if she doesn't…

Well, if she doesn't, she'll have the biggest target on her back of all.

 **Colleen Tosse, 17  
District Five Female**

Colleen hopes that the careers don't view her as a threat.

She's been _trying_ to keep what she can do a secret - she's been clumsy, she's pretended that she doesn't know how to cook or how to use the herbs that are provided in the edible plants section - although it's hard to fake that she has no idea what they are, she's managed to fool the instructor into thinking that she doesn't know what nightlock berries are. Now, _that_ took skill.

For the most part, it seems to be paying off - the few careers who watch her have given her neutral, condescending glances before going back to whatever they're working on, and none of them have watched her too closely. She might be able to slip under the radar after all - she just has to get through the next few days.

Well, that and figuring out how she can get her hands on explosives in the arena.

Decisions, decisions, decisions! She hasn't managed to figure out how she'll fight the rest of the tributes in there, she thinks as she starts working on a fisherman's knot, but she knows that she'll have to be careful. Nothing close range will work well for her. A knife would be useful, but it's too small to do any proper harm, a sword too difficult to master, an axe too clumsy, a spear too unreliable. She wants something she can surprise the others with, something unorthodox.

Explosives would fit the bill perfectly.

But there _are_ none to harvest. So instead, she'll practice her knots - a few practical trapping skills could net her prey in the arena, both animal and human. She wants to get back home. She wants to see her grandma again. She wants Five back.

She'll do what she needs to.

When one of the tributes approaches her towards the end of the day, Colleen's mildly surprised until she sees that it's Sasha. Shrugging, she makes room for him at the knot-tying station as she makes her way through yet another knot. "How goes the training? Have you decided if you'll play along, or is that still not an option?"

Sasha reddens, fumbling with the rope that she hands him. "I'm not here to spar, Colleen. I'm supposed to ask you to join the alliance - I don't _want_ you in it, but I guess you won't kill us and they all want you. So here I am - they thought I'd do best to recruit you."

"I think I'll go it alone," Colleen murmurs. Sasha nods, his fingers suddenly weaving a capable knot that holds firm when he tugs at it. He understands what she means.

"Good luck," he tells her, and then sidles back to his alliance. When he's out of earshot, Colleen asks the instructor if there's a way to make a snare that can trap unwary feet in the arena, pulling them up into trees as the rope tightens around their leg, and keeping them within range for her. The instructor, delighted to see that someone's asking her for one of the more difficult skills, is quick to show Colleen how to create the snare. Colleen's even quicker to learn it, - it's good that she can learn quickly, she thinks with a wry smile - tying up something that could catch even a career off guard in the arena.

"Do you think there'll be trees?" she asks the instructor, playing with several different types of knots. They've gotten to know each other throughout the day, given that Colleen's spent most of her time at this station, and the instructor is comfortable enough to answer questions that Colleen has about the Capitol. "I don't know what I'd do without them - trees are useful things, aren't they?"

The instructor gestures vaguely towards the gamemaker's room, high above their heads. "Only they know, I suppose - but if there aren't trees, use anything - rocks, windows, doors, anything that you can use should be used. There's always _something_ , and you're smart. You'll find something."

"Thanks." Colleen goes back to making herself a second snare until the instructor tells her kindly that it's time to go. She thanks the woman and walks out of the room, taking care to stay behind the careers.

So far, she's succeeded in keeping away from them.

Now, she just has to stay out of sight for a few days more.

 **FYI because I forgot last time, Duchess is she/her in drag and he/him out of drag. Apologies for not clarifying.**

 **Enjoy! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ.**


	21. Training III: Take Your Time

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
Capitol Citizen**

"Valerie and I have done nothing to make ourselves suspects in this case," the man with the golden eyes hisses at Carameuse. His face seems to be turning red with anger at being forced to go through this interview, and his wife nudges his arm to calm him down. It's a subtle gesture, but Carameuse notices it nonetheless - for every ounce of rage that Flavian Cateo has, his wife has two more of composure.

She won't let her guard slip. But he… well, he might.

"Valerie, I'm going to have to ask you to keep with the others. I find it best to conduct interviews in solitude." Carameuse chooses to ignore the man and responds directly to the woman, whose amber eyes widen before her mouth opens in a silent O of acknowledgement. It's like she's just woken up from a trance as she nods, standing up to leave. "I do hope you understand."

"Oh, of course. It's completely on me to have intruded on your privacy like this." Valerie turns around to walk to the other side of the car, where she leans over the counter and asks the bartender for a drink. Carameuse considers asking the woman to leave the car so that only the suspects - and the peacekeepers - will be here, but she decides against it. Perhaps it's best to have someone not connected to the case to ease the tension.

"Alright, shall we begin where we left off?" Flavian asks, seeming to have composed himself all too quickly in the time that it took for his wife to leave. "Now, I didn't do anything to be a suspect here - my wife and I are humble citizens, in her service."

"The Cateo couple, rising stars in the world of gamemakers and celebrity-dom, with your television show together," Carameuse murmurs to Flavian. "You two were found to be quite radical by President Ember - perhaps too radical, especially with the avid demonstrations that your followers held in front of government buildings declaring that Ember needed to resign. Add that to the fact that you've had shady dealings with rebel-sympathizing companies, and one could build a solid case against you. But most importantly, you were found with weapons in your luggage."

"I -" Flavian seems at a loss for words, sputtering for some appropriate response. "But why would there -"

"Ms. Heloise!" the sound of Carameuse's name seems to be more like a shriek than a call, and Cassia pushes past a table to move towards them. Carameuse looks past the woman to see the others - the bartender and peacekeepers included - crowded around something… some… _someone._

"What is it, Cassia?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

"Oh - oh - oh -" Cassia nearly bursts into tears, but swallows her fear away to reply to Carameuse. "Ms. Heloise… Ms. Heloise, one of the others - the man… he's dead."

 **Callous Lecket, 17  
District Ten Male**

"Am I ready for the Hunger Games?" he murmurs to himself while he dresses in the uniform that they're supposed to wear in the training centre. It's shapeless enough to not reveal anything, so he's not too uncomfortable in it - although he doesn't like the feeling of the fabric very much. He'd rather wear something soft, something ragged and torn and genuine.

He wants to go back home.

"Hey, we're supposed to be heading down soon. You're coming, right?" Ceres pokes her head into his bedroom as Callous starts putting on his shoes, tapping a foot in impatience. "You gonna hurry up, or?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," Callous replies. He pats himself down, satisfied with his appearance, and tries to straighten up his shoulders. His mother's always said that he looks better when his shoulders are ramrod straight, that he looks stronger, bigger when he looks confident, but Callous finds it too hard to do that anymore.

It's too exhausting to pretend that he's fine all of the time.

He blows up at his thin hair to get some of the long, blonde strands out of his face - he hates the way they tickle against his forehead, but he hasn't gotten the opportunity to cut them yet. The hair settles back down in a place that's comfortable, and he follows Ceres - grabbing a muffin from the table along the way. He might be dying in a few days, but he's still hungry. "So, what did you want to ask me?"

Ceres laughs, more than a little nervously. It's surprising to hear that from her - she's been nothing but composed throughout this whole trip. "I'm supposed to ask you to join this alliance I'm in - it's nothing too big - I mean, it is. The boys from Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Eleven are in it, and so are the girls from Nine and Eleven. We're bigger than even the careers right now - and the more people the better. If we can get ourselves ready for the bloodbath, we might be able to get rid of them. We could kill the largest threats before they have a chance to start murdering, Cal."

"I…" he ponders the thought for a moment, thinking of the careers with their sharp swords and practiced muscles. They wouldn't let a ragtag alliance cut them down that easily, yet… if they had a chance, just one…

He wants an alliance, too. It's just that he hasn't had the chance to approach anyone yet - he's been practicing throwing axes and working with knives, trying to learn what he can. It keeps his mind busy and off of the fact that he's supposed to die - it keeps his mind away from remembering that he's fine with dying.

"Well, are you in or out? I don't care if you're not going to join, but I wouldn't mind having you. You're strong enough," Ceres remarks. Callous blushes - he hasn't thought of the fact that everyone else has been observing him as much as he has them. "So?"

"Yeah, I'll join you all." The words come out of his mouth before he has a chance to properly think about what he's saying, and he chides himself mentally for making what could be his final mistake. But he's said it now - there's no going back. He's part of an alliance.

Even if it means that he's now a target of the careers, it's nice to know that someone other than himself has his back.

They take the elevator down to the training centre, Ceres stepping off first to head towards the group of teens that have already made it into the centre. "Jackson will be pleased - he's been recruiting like mad to get everyone into the alliance. I guess he's making sure no one can be approached by a career before they're by us, you know?"

"It makes sense," Callous replies. It's a formidable group - the boys from Five to Eight are all here, with the girl from Nine, the pair from Eleven, and themselves hurrying to join them before the careers get here. That's, what, nine tributes? It's almost double what the careers have, especially now that the girl from Four isn't part of their group.

They just might have a chance after all.

 **Hex Hertz, 16  
District Twelve Male**

"Hey," Antimony says when he reaches the edible plants section that Hex has been waiting at for the past half-hour. "Electra's coming soon, she just has a few things to take care of upstairs."

"Sounds good!" replies Hex, giving the boy a grin. They had met on the first day and liked each other well enough to strike up a tentative alliance - letting Antimony's district partner into the group after she asked to join, although Antimony had heaved and hawed about it for a while before caving in. The fact that she knew every edible plant by heart after looking at them just once didn't hurt their decision, though.

"That one alliance is starting to get monstrously big," Antimony muses as they start to sort the poisonous plants from the edible ones. Hex puts a harmless piece of mint on his right, taking care to not mix up the two categories. He doesn't want to look like a fool in front of Antimony. "I wonder if the careers will cut them down to size, or if they're the ones in charge of these Games. I'd bet more than a few sesterces that they'll kill a career in the bloodbath - how about you?"

"I don't know." Hex looks over at the group - there's over eight of them now, all working to build a fire once more. They spend a lot of time at the fire-making station, stopping only to practice other skills, eat, and attempt to recruit more people for their alliance. But most of the other tributes have already made up their minds of where they stand. Himself, Antimony, and Electra don't want to join the group out of fear that they'll be noticed by the careers, and the girls from Six, Eight, and Twelve have joined forces as well. There are quite a few alliances this year - perhaps they're a result of the fact that the boy from Six had campaigned so ferociously to make an alliance to rival the careers.

No one wants to be the person left behind.

"Well, this isn't the year to not be in an alliance. I think that the girls from Four, Five, and Seven, and the boy from Nine are going to regret not being in one - oh, wait, someone's approaching the Nine. Are they accepting him, too? They're almost half of the field this year by now - this is _wild_. Imagine being a gambler this year!" Antimony lights up at the thought on betting on which tributes will make it through the bloodbath, his mind alight with possibilities. Hex admires the way he can think his way through every scenario - it's almost frightening to see how enterprising he is.

"He's a smart guy - they'd want him. Oh, hi Electra!" Hex waves to his other ally, who blushes as she takes a seat at the table. "Are you ready to race again?"

Electra nods with a giggle, and they all take their share of plants. "Ready, set, go!" Hex shouts, and they quickly sort the foreign plants. Electra finishes far too quickly for them to have a chance of beating her, but she smiles and claps when Antimony finishes a few moments later. Hex finishes last, but he's satisfied with his results - the instructor soon tells him that he's gotten over ninety percent of them correct.

He likes those odds.

"Well, it's soon time for the private sessions," whispers Antimony as a career passes by their table. It's the boy from Two, who heads in the direction of the bathroom instead of bothering to look at them. The three all breathe a sigh of relief, and Antimony continues his train of thought. "Who do you think will do the best?"

"Girl from Five," replies Electra quickly. The boys stare over at her, surprised, but nod along with her. Electra's usually right. "She knows more than what she lets on. The girl from Five will do the best."

"That makes sense, but I'm going to guess that the boy from Two or the girl from One is going to take the highest score," Antimony says with a thoughtful glance. "I like playing it safe when it comes to scores - I gamble a lot."

"So I see!" Hex says with a chortle. He hasn't learned too much about Antimony's past, but he knows that the boy from Three works with horses - and other, more dubious methods of work wouldn't surprise him. "Hmm, I'll guess that the boy from Six will do the best - he's solid and strong. Maybe the careers are weaker than we think."

"They aren't," whispers Electra. They all glance over at the careers, who are discussing something quite intently, and a shiver passes down Hex's spine.

He doesn't know what to think anymore.

 **Aeson Humpford, 18  
District Two Male**

"So, what are we doing?" Tourmaline looks to the rest of the group, waiting for an answer. "None of the outliers are going to join us, even if we tried."

"We already have," murmurs Aeson. They had asked the girl from Ten to work with them in the arena, but she had flat-out laughed in their faces before walking back to the too-large alliance that's now the central focus of the training centre. It'd be amusing if it wasn't so dangerous, an alliance that could crush the careers in one fell swoop.

They have to be prepared. They have to be ready.

But he doesn't know if the careers _are_.

"Kill them all, I suppose," Duchess says with a laugh. He hasn't been taking this very seriously - Aeson's starting to get annoyed with the boy from One. But he's a smart, cunning competitor - someone that'll be a help to the alliance. And none of them can afford to make enemies within the careers when they're so vastly outnumbered. "We'll get rid of the biggest threats, and stick together. Two on one for each of the guys or something - I'm sure we can get rid of the little ones easily. Once we get three or four to die, the others will think twice about fighting us."

"True, but what do we do if they overwhelm one of us?" Tourmaline's frowning now, obviously trying to plan their best course of strategy. She pushes back her dark curls of hair and thinks, her eyebrows scrunched up as she tries to think of something that they can do. They all must feel truly stumped by this point - this isn't something that they were ready to confront. There has never been an alliance this big, something that could crush them all if the outliers played their cards right. "I just - I can't think of a thing. We're just going to have to gun for their strongest ones."

"Snake's head," Enyo says quietly. They all turn to look at her, and the girl blushes a brilliant shade of scarlet. "Cut off head, the rest… you know."

"So we'll stick to our plans - that's settled, then," Aeson says with a tone of finality. Tourmaline nods curtly, and they all settle back into their seat. Fraser still looks a bit confused by the metaphor, but he does his best to pretend that he understands.

And then he feels the burning again.

"Sorry, gotta go to the bathroom again," he calls to the rest of the careers as he pushes away his seat and hurries to the lavatories. Duchess looks at him oddly, then laughs about something that Aeson can't hear. They must all think that he's a fool - or maybe worse, but they wouldn't know what it's actually about. They wouldn't, would they? They can't. No one knows, no one except his family and himself.

He can't tell them.

A few moments later, he's finished with his business and splashes some water onto his face. He can't keep going like this - not when he has to enter the arena without the medication. And the medication's just barely helping - what will it be like when he has nothing to lean on? How will he justify his disappearances in the arena every half-hour?

He's going to have to up the medication rate, ask one of the victors what he should do, anything to make sure that he won't get caught up in this. He's not letting a silly mistake of ignoring this urinary tract infection to stop him from getting killed - no, this is _his_ Games to win. He's going to win. He just has to find a way.

When Aeson hurries back to the careers, they've left the table and are getting ready to form a line for the private sessions. Their time together is coming to an end, he realizes. They've all formed an opinion on him, whether it be good or bad.

He knows what he has to do. If he can perform well here, if he can get himself a score to rival the others, if he can prove that he deserves to be here, they won't question a thing. He just has to keep everything under control. He just needs control.

He just has to wait a little longer.

 **Quick chapter today to wrap up training! Thoughts? Good to see that a good chunk of y'all are still here for the most part - especially the four people who review every chapter bc they are the REAL heroes :D**

 **Enjoy the chapter! I'll see you soon with the private sessions. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	22. Private Sessions: Stronger

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
Capitol Citizen**

"Another!" Gregoire's laughter echoes throughout the car. As the harsh sound bounces off of the glasses still on the table, Carameuse takes it all in. Her suspects, the peacekeepers, the bartender…

And one dead.

The room almost takes on a nasty maroon hue as she looks at the body - there's nothing like a murder to sully what otherwise would be a charming little bar. But sure enough, the last man - the one who was about to punch Gregoire, she recalls - she was about to interview is dead, and with no explanation.

Yet.

"He - he just collapsed right there, and the drink he was holding fell into the floor," stammers a woman in violet. The purple shades that adorn her body fit well with her pale skin - she rather looks like a blooming wildflower, with a violet-to-indigo gown and golden hair that spills out at the top. "I don't know how he died, I wasn't paying attention. I was talking to Cassia, you see…"

"So?" Flavian sneers, not even bothering to feign sympathy for the dead. For a moment, Carameuse feels an innate urge to recoil from the thin man - people like him are exactly the type that she'd rather avoid. She doesn't like the slimy ones, wrapped up in their self-importance and thinking that they're the toast of the town. They never know when they've gone too far. "I'm sure he just took a sip of the drink and died, which means that he was poisoned. And anyone could have slipped it in. Who knows? Maybe it was you, Ms. Vincent."

Carameuse casts a warning glance towards the guards, and they back away. The tension seems to decrease as they do so, the bartender slipping back to the security of her counter and the others taking seats at the longest table in the car. "No more drinks, I think. Now, we do have proof that one of you is a murderer - who else could have killed him?"

"No, no, you can't say that!" Valerie shakes her head with a fierce toss, her amber eyes hardening. "We have no idea if he had any pre-existing conditions, if the stress did him in, or if someone else did something. There are so many other possibilities, and we, we, we can't just jump to conclusions!" She finishes the sentence with a flourish, as if she's settled the debate once and for all.

"Why would a fitness mogul, merely in his early fifties and supposedly in the peak of health, die like that? It doesn't add up, and I'm astonished that you can't see that." Carameuse glances over at Valerie rather sternly, and the woman flushes. "No, _someone in this room did it_ , and I suspect that it was indeed in his drink, as Mr. Cateo kindly pointed out."

"How do you know it was one of us?" Gregoire asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. "It could have been anyone in the room - one of the peacekeepers, I mean, even the bartender! She's the one with access to the drinks, correct?"

"How very true," Carameuse replies. "But we do have enough equipment on this train to analyze the cup, and from there we can search your persons, the car, your belongings, anything to see what killed our friend. Does anyone feel the need to confess, or do we need to take further measures to find out?"

No one replies.

 **Enyo Bedford, 18  
District Two Female**

It's time to see what she can do.

She fidgets in place while waiting to enter the training room, shooting a glance over at Aeson. He's the epitome of calm - cool, collected, and focused on the goal at hand. He'll be entering for his private session before she will, just after the girl from One, Tourmaline, is finished hers. Enyo wonders idley how the girl would have done, but doesn't have time to continue that line of thought. After all, it's hard to focus when Aeson gets up and is escorted into the training room by two armed peacekeepers.

She fidgets with her fingers, pretending that she has a knot in her hands that she's making over and over and over. She likes to have something to play with when she's nervous, something to stop her from feeling so fidgety. But she doesn't have that something - she just has to wait until she heads into the training room.

She'll do well in there. She might not be able to articulate her thoughts well, but she doesn't fold under pressure. She'll be able to perform her skills, and well at that. She'll just have to find out what the gamemakers think of that - that, Enyo thinks, will be the annoying part. Hopefully, they'll score her fairly.

She can only hope.

While waiting for Aeson to finish his session, Enyo entertains herself by observing the rest of the tributes still in here. There's the pair from Three, sitting together and waiting for their own sessions. She's watched them pair up with the boy from Twelve for an alliance of their own - they'll be strong, but not the threat that the largest alliance this year will be. They're a nuisance, not a danger.

And then there's Four - Fraser, who doesn't seem to quite know what he's doing here, and Shelby, who didn't join the alliance. She must not fit in well with Four - although they seem to know each other, they don't bother to speak to one another. The same is with District Five, who shift in their seats while waiting for their own turn to prove themselves to the gamemakers.

District Six and Seven are comfortable with one another - the boy from Seven helps the girl adjust her seat every so often, perhaps because she's pregnant, thinks Enyo - but it's Eight that's interesting to watch. The girl squirms in her seat while stifling small coughs, tearstains visible on her pale face, while the boy bites his lip in restraint every time she coughs. It's like he's struggling not to yell at her, instead being just patient enough to wait until his own session before taking out his own aggression -

Then the peacekeepers are standing in front of her, and she realizes after a moment that it's _her_ turn to enter the training room. She gives the pair a smile when she walks in, but they don't smile back - perhaps that's not what she was supposed to do.

Oh well, she shouldn't worry about it now.

So, she's finally made it. Enyo's not sure when she's supposed to begin, but after an uncomfortable shrug she hurries to a sword and begins to spar with an instructor. She's strong enough to take the man easily, and then drops the sword in favour of a spear. She throws it once, twice, thrice, dozens of times towards the targets, hitting the bullseye every time. One of the instructors has the idea of moving the targets around for her to target, and she hits each one.

There's something comforting about hitting it each time, measuring the angle and judging her aim and strength before letting the spear soar through the air and into yet another target.

It feels good to be good at this.

All too soon, the private session is over, and Enyo stands awkwardly in the middle of the room until two more peacekeepers escort her out. She looks up at the gamemakers for affirmation - most of them aren't looking anymore, but those that are smile back down.

That's good, right?

Hopefully, Enyo thinks as she heads up the elevator and towards the floor that she shares with Aeson and the victors, they'll have all seen what she can do.

 **Desdemona Steen, 15  
District Eight Female**

She gives a small moan when the boy from Five heads into his private session. "Oh, I feel sick again - is there anything I can take? Doesn't the Capitol have medicine or something?"

"I told you, you can wait until after your session before asking about medicine again," Tristan whispers through gritted teeth. "Stop being such a wimp, Mona - you have to wait until this is all over. Think of it this way - at least you aren't from Twelve."

"Oh - oh!" Mona whimpers at the thought of having to wait an extra hour longer than she has to now to feel better. She'd hate to have to wait that long - Arisa must be brave to sit still for so long. No, Mona would rather be from one of the first districts, like Three or Five. At least she'd be able to get through everything more quickly.

Tristan rolls his eyes at Mona, turning away to talk to the girl from Nine - Emma? Mona can't remember many of the names of her fellow tributes anymore. She tried to at the beginning - she knows Tourmaline and Duchess, Armani, Arisa, and Tristan, - of course - but none of the other names have stuck in her head properly. She hasn't had a chance to learn the other names properly, or even speak to the other tributes.

Truth be told, she doesn't want to.

Tristan nudges her when the girl from Six heads into the training centre, pointing at the door. "It's your turn in about half an hour. Be ready - I know I haven't been good to you, but try to show them one of your strengths. You can't be _that_ bad, can you?"

Mona simply glares back at Tristan, and he slips back into silence.

The room is quiet - too quiet, she thinks. It's filled with a curious nervous tension that's come with the fact that they're about to demonstrate their skills to the very people who will be controlling their lives in the arena - if they don't satisfy them, they might be the first to die once the dust settles from the bloodbath.

Oh, she knows that she isn't going to do well. She has nothing to show them, nothing to prove to them that she can do. All she can hope is that she gets lucky with one of the identification tests and that she isn't too much of a failure.

And after the two from Seven enter the room - the girl holding her stomach to protect the growing child inside as she walks through the large doors - and Tristan walks through the same doors with a confident grin, it's time for her to see what she _can_ do.

She can't fail.

She can't.

The gamemakers are silent when the doors close with a clash and a bang, which she jumps at. She can't help it, she's too keyed up to keep herself calm now. She looks up at the gamemakers to see if they're ready to watch, then gives a shrug. She doesn't know if she's supposed to wait for them to tell her to start, but it's not like they can stop her now.

They'll have to watch her now, whether they like it or not.

She walks steadily to the one treadmill to the side of the room. She's going to start with something she _can_ do, something that she can prove she's good at. She doesn't care anymore, not about the gamemakers not telling her what to do or if she'll fail miserably. She'll do what she loves, instead.

She's going to run.

Turning it up to the highest setting possible, Mona sprints as fast as she can for as long as she can. It's longer than what she's used to, but she's too determined to fail now - she's not giving these Capitolites a reason to go sniggering home. She's always been a good runner, and her feet don't fail her. It's only when she starts to cough, about six minutes in at a blindingly fast pace, when she stops.

Getting off the treadmill, she glances up at the gamemakers. Most aren't watching her by now, but those that are have something that look like… they look like they have expressions of approval on their faces.

She spends the rest of the session building up a large fire, smirking when she gets the fire started before attempting to boil water on top of it. She doesn't boil the water by the time that she's told to leave, but that doesn't matter.

 _Someone_ noticed her.

 **Aloie Church, 12  
District Eleven Female**

She's starting to get bored.

She taps her foot against the cement floor, making a little rhythm to occupy her mind with while she waits for her turn to enter the large training centre. Already, almost twenty of her fellow tributes have gotten their chance to head into the centre and show off. She doesn't want to sit still for any longer, she wants to do something, to move, to _breathe_.

It neve feels like this at the apothecary. There, she always has something to do. There's always another stack of fresh, green herbs for her to sort through, clean, and put in place in the many jars on the walls of the apothecary. There's always a patient waiting to be treated for some minute injury, another thumb to be bandaged, there's always _something_ to do. Her parents worried that she'd miss them when she was sent to work with Cora - well, she did at the start - but that wasn't her main worry.

She didn't want to be left with nothing to do.

Who will help Cora now? If Aloie doesn't get back, who'll apprentice under the older woman to help the district? She loves her job, she loves helping her people in the apothecary. But here? No, she's serving a very different purpose - she's a sheep off to slaughter.

And then Luke leaves his seat to head into the training centre, giving a curt glance back at Aloie before disappearing through the thick, grey doors, and she's all alone now.

There's only two other tributes with her - the boy and girl from Twelve, both waiting patiently in their seats. She knows that they're both in alliances - at this point, everyone knows who is where. The boy, Hex, is working with the pair from Three, while Arisa is working with Armani from Six and Desdemona from Eight.

Aloie doesn't know if any of them will make it out of the bloodbath, but she hopes that they will.

She hopes that everyone will.

The only reason she's in the mega-alliance is because of Luke. He had realized that it would protect her - well, _he_ thought that - if they had entered the alliance together, and he had persuaded her to do the same. She'd rather be in a smaller alliance, but she won't complain. It's nice to know that she has nine other people who won't kill her.

She won't be able to say the same thing after the bloodbath's over, though.

"Aloie Church, please head into the training room." Aloie looks up, surprised, to see two peacekeepers clad in their pristine uniforms above her. They're imposing figures, but they part to let her through to the training centre, where she'll finally be able to do something.

Hopefully, she won't fail.

She gulps when she heads into the training centre, sneaking a glance up at the gamemakers above her head. They're all in that little room of theirs while they feast on a meal that's been provided for them, not paying much attention to her. She doesn't mind that, to be honest. It's nice to know that she has only a few of them judging her every move.

But that's enough of standing still for Aloie - it's time to perform.

She easily sorts all of the edible plants from the poisonous ones, even taking a moment to show how a few of the poisonous ones could be used to help heal wounds. No one seems interested, and she shrugs. They're not going to pay much attention to her - people are people, and they focus on their needs first and foremost. That table full of food looks a lot more satisfying to them than her healing skills.

But one of the peacekeepers looks interested.

And then, to her shock, the peacekeeper whips out a _gun_ of all things and shoots an avox who's waiting in the corner.

She can't believe her eyes for a moment, just gaping at the avox that's starting to bleed in their arm from the wound. The peacekeeper gestures over to her, smirking. "Hurry up - you've got their attention, honey."

True enough, every gamemaker is watching her with eyes wide open.

Aloie gulps once, twice, then tears the arms of her uniform off with two knives - her tourniquet, her best choice considering that there aren't any other options for her to use.

It's time to get to work.

 **Another chapter! We're only getting closer to the end of the Capitol and I am excited! :D**

 **Thoughts on the chapter? Thoughts on how everything is turning out? Do y'all think that we have any potential winners in this one? Feel free to share! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing, y'all are awesome. I hope that you all are having a lot of fun with the Capitol, and that you're ready for the arena. I'm hyped!**

 **Enjoy! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	23. Score Reveals: Hard Times

**Carameuse Heloise, 48**  
 **Capitol Citizen**

"The objects in question are currently being tested right now in the lab - fortunately, we had a forensic scientist on the train who'll be able to help us out. They've said that they're willing to get it finished quickly, so you might have results in a few hours or less!" the peacekeeper had whispered to her an hour ago, leaving her alone with the suspects. Gregoire and Flavian had helped drag the body onto a stretcher when a few avoxes had come to collect it, rolling it into place before watching disappear away from sight. Now they're all alone, with the snow falling heavily outside of the train and the lights flickering.

And she has her five suspects all in front of her.

"I'm not going to mince words here," she tells the five. "We're not leaving this car until we get a confession from one of you, no matter how ludicrously long that will take. Someone in this room killed that man - for whatever reason - and that someone likely killed the first man as well - and is very likely guilty of the… of the other charges."

"I won't believe it, I won't!" Gianna Vincent pushes away her seat and stands up, pointing to the others. "You don't believe that one of us killed him, do you? And if so, why Cassia, or Valerie?"

"Men aren't the only ones capable of murder, Gianna," Valerie whispers. "I thought… I thought you'd know that."

"I know what you're thinking, but I can't believe someone like you two - no, I can't." Such an odd person, Carameuse thinks as Gianna finishes her rant and sits back down. But according to the others, including the bartender, she hadn't even come close to the drinks. She wouldn't have had the chance to meddle with them, unless one of the others had lied for her.

No, she's not the one. Carameuse is missing something… but she can't…

Figure out what.

She only has a few - six, to be exact - hours before the train will start moving again. After the initial half-day of rounding up the final suspects, she was gifted fourteen hours with these people before President Ember wanted her back, yet it's been eight and she's only unravelled a few of the strands that'll lead her to the killer. She doesn't want to take a longer time than necessary

After all, one of these people is a killer. They won't hesitate to stop the train again.

They won't hesitate to murder.

 **Antimony Sinebad, 15  
District Three Male**

"How do you think they'll do?" he asks Electra, eyes fixated on the screen. "It's going to be a blast to watch - oh, if only I was home right now. I was one of the best at predicting this - how about you?"

Electra shrugs, twisting her long hair into tighter and tighter loops around her fingers as she tries to keep listening to the lilting accents of the Capitolite hosts. "Careers always do well, but perhaps an outlier will score high? And the careers will score high."

"I wouldn't be surprised!" Antimony laughs, giving Electra a grin. "I want to see how that Jackson fellow does - too high, and he'll be bloodbath bait. Just you watch."

He's confident in his predictions - he's rarely wrong when it comes to this. The careers never like seeing an outlier score high, especially if it's uncomfortably close to their own. Score too high, and a tribute will be public enemy number one to the careers. He deliberately underperformed in his own session - he limited himself to showing his simple knife skills and survival skills. He'll get around five, give or take a point. But he won't attract the attention of the careers.

He won't be the first dead because he was too cocky.

"And we're going to begin the score reveals! Get ready, folks, because this will be quite a ride! Our first tribute, the lovely boy from District One, Duchess Coruscate, has earned himself an incredible score of… ten! Congratulations to Duchess, who must be extremely pleased with that score." The interviewers applaud the first score politely, and Antimony grins. He figured that the One would score around that number - although he had him at a nine.

"And now for the gorgeous Tourmaline de Metz, who's earned a score of… we have another ten! Tourmaline and Duchess have set the standard, but we'll have to see if the rest of the careers can keep it up..."

Antimony shakes his head. "They won't."

Electra nods, and Antimony gives her a grateful smile. She's nervous, she's a bit crazy at times, but he's glad to have her here with him. It's nice to have someone he can talk to - Kaitlynn's left the room, unable to watch, and their escort has disappeared.

"It's time for our second district! From District Two, we have Aeson Humpford with a score of… nine! Impressive for the boy from Two."

"Two's not too bad this year," Antimony says. "They'll do better than at least one of the Ones, I think."

Electra doesn't respond.

"It's Enyo's turn! Enyo Bedford has received a magnificent score of ten as well!"

Antimony makes no comment, satisfied with the score.

"Antimony Sinebad has himself a score of five!"

"Co-congratulations," Electra whispers. Antimony smiles back, surprised but pleased to hear that Electra knows what he's up to. It's good to see that _someone_ knows what he's doing. "You must be happy."

"I am. Thanks."

"For Electra Mancuso, a lovely girl from District Three, we have her score listed as… a six! Congratulations to Electra, that is a great score for District Three!"

Antimony applauds Electra's score, reaching across the couch to clasp her hand in victory. Electra blushes and shies away at first, but offers her hand to him after a moment. "Congrats, Electra! Sponsors are going to have to watch out for you! You must have impressed the gamemakers with something crazy to earn that score."

"Th-thank you, thanks. Thanks." Electra blushes again, turning back to the screen. "Time for District Four."

"And it's Fraser Killick!" an interviewer screams, trying to excite the Capitol audience. Who knows, it could work for _someone_ , Antimony thinks as he listens to their grating tone. "Fraser has a score of eight!"

"Good." Electra settles back into the couch, comfortable. Antimony glances over at the dark-haired girl with a look of surprise, but says nothing - Electra knows what she's doing. So far, she's been better than him at knowing what'll happen. He could take some tips from her next time he gambles on scores.

 _If he ever gets the chance._

"Shelby Doran is next up, with a score of seven!"

"Low," Antimony whispers. "Lower than I thought."

"High enough," Electra replies, and they sit in silence for the rest of the score reveals.

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
District Six Male**

"And now, Sasha Sone! Sasha has earned himself a score of - oh dear - three."

Jackson bites his lip, and Isa pats him on the back in comfort. "He'll be fine - as you said, Sasha's not playing by the rules. Of course he won't get the score you thought he would."

"Of course he wouldn't. Thanks, Isa." Jackson settles into the leather couch, chewing a few of the chips that he has in a large bowl to distract him from the scores. He's worked too hard to unite this alliance for it to fall apart because a few firebrands like Sasha to get low scores and embarrass themselves in front of the sponsors. In hindsight, he shouldn't have asked the boy to join - he's a liability with how blatantly he's against the Capitol - but he's in the alliance now.

Jackson doesn't give up on his alliances easily.

"Colleen Tosse, the lovely girl from District Five, has earned herself an eight! Oh my, that's quite a high score! Congratulations to Colleen, who must be elated by that marvelous performance!"

The interviewers continue to gush about Colleen, but Doug shakes his head. "Rosanna's found another cunning girl that she hopes can win her the Games - we'll see how that works. Last time she tried that, the girl puttered out in the final girl. Poor gal, she was close, too. We'll see how this one goes."

"Oh, Rosanna? She's been alone for so long - it's too bad that she doesn't have anyone yet. Maybe next year, I suppose." Isa frowns, looking over at Armani. "Are you alright, Armani? You don't seem well - oh, it's another attack, is it?"

"Le-leave me alone, please. I'm sorry." Armani looks like she's seen a ghost, her face more pale than Jackson's ever seen it. She leaps up from her seat and flees to her bedroom, her mousy brown hair following her.

"I hope she's alright," Isa sighs, but makes no move to follow her. She's tried too many times before, to no avail. Jackson feels bad for the girl, but he doesn't understand what they can do to help - this is something that only Armani knows about.

"Jackson Kennedy, the boy from Six, has received an eight as well! Another lovely score - congratulations, Jackson!" The interviews clap for him as well, and Jackson's face colours red. He wasn't expecting that score - he thought his performance with a sword fight and the fire that he built was worth something lower.

But he's glad for it.

"Armani DeCormick has received, oh my, a score of two."

Isa winces at the comment, burying her face in her hands. "We had talked about the obstacle course, but she must have given up. I shouldn't have pushed her," she mumbles. Doug gives her a quick hug, and she soon gets back up to continue listening to the broadcast.

"Timber Sycamore has received a score of five!" The interviews clap politely, and Jackson grins. It's good to know that someone from the alliance is doing well for themselves in the private sessions.

Other than him, of course.

"Magnolia Rosa-Tran has earned herself a seven! Quite an impressive score from this young lady - overcoming her _pregnancy_ , of all things, to rank in the upper echelons! We'll see good things to come from..."

"I wonder what the gamemakers will do with her," Isa muses. "They can't very well let her die without the Capitol getting angry - after all, the baby could be born by now with modern technology. Something will happen, all right - we'll have to wait and see."

"Perhaps she'll give birth soon? But it's risky - pregnancy always is. I don't know..." Doug trails off, his eyes going dark as he starts to remember something he's repressed for ages. Jackson glances over, slightly unnerved by the change in the victor, but Isa gives him a reassuring nod before escorting Doug out. Jackson's all alone.

"And now for District Eight! Tristan Locke has earned himself a score of eight - quite high! - and Desdemona Steen has earned a six! Decent scores for these two - will they prove themselves in the bloodbath? We'll have to see."

Yes, they'll have to see.

And maybe, Jackson hopes against hope, it'll end up with his alliance on top.

 **Ezra Winfield, 13  
District Nine Male**

He's glad that he has an alliance to rely on - otherwise, he'd be scared out of his mind right now.

Emma taps the side of the couch impatiently, waiting for something to happen. They're both missing the mentor that should be with them - instead, their escort has taken the brunt of the mentoring duty. Jo Lycoris isn't the _worst_ mentor, not by any means.

Yet…

"For District Nine, we have Ezra Winfield and Emma von Hapsburg! Ezra has received a lovely score of six, while Emma has herself a score of eight! Impressive scores for the two from Nine, but will they keep it up?"

"Congratulations, you two! You're all set for your interviews - are you ready to prove yourselves to the nation? Ezra, I'm sure you can use that big brain of yours to win the audience over, while Emma - oh, Emma, the men are going to love you. A good dress and a few witty comments, and you'll have them drooling. Oh, it's so exciting to get ready for interviews! They're my favourite part of the Games, you know..." Jo drones on, happily sharing their thoughts on the Games. Ezra and Emma haven't figured out their gender yet - whenever the two asks, Jo seems not to hear.

Strange.

"Thank you! We're going to do well." Emma looks confident, but Ezra hears the wavering note of nervousness in her voice. Emma _hopes_ she's ready, but is she? He doesn't know either.

Oh, he wishes he knew all of the answers. It would make everything so much _simpler_.

"And now we have District Ten! These two have been gossiped about many times about what their capabilities in the Games are - perhaps they're our wildcards! For now, we have our scores: a score of four to Callous Lecket and a score of five for Ceres Hemlock! Congratulations to these two!"

"They're a bit low, aren't they?" Emma whispers to Ezra. After initially shutting him out for being 'too small' - a sentiment that Ezra resented - Emma's given in and tells him all of her thoughts now. Perhaps it's because she has no one else to share them with here - it's hard to get into a proper conversation with Jo without feeling like they've switched topics every fifteen seconds. "I wonder how Jackson will react to them in the alliance - it could break us all up."

"I think Jackson wants us all to stick together. He seems like an honourable guy!" Ezra likes Jackson. He seems smart and capable, and he never gets stressed about the personalities that fight within the alliance.

Maybe that's not the best trait, though.

"It's time for District Eleven to show us our scores! First up, we have Luke Atkinson with a score of… Luke has gotten a score of four!"

"Another low one - I thought Luke would be better than that." Emma grunts, unhappy that he's scored almost as low as Sasha. She and the boy from Five have not gotten along well through training - both of them would be happy to see each other go. Ezra's just happy no one feels that way about _him_.

"Maybe they put him lower because he was rude," Ezra offers, and Emma nods. It seems on brand for Luke to do.

"Aloie Church has received a score of - oh my - seven! What a great score for this young girl from Twelve! We'll have to see how she does in the Games, but that's quite promising for one of our youngest competitors!"

"What did she do?" Emma asks, confused. She takes a sip of the large glass of juice she has in her hand, waiting to see how District Twelve's done. Ezra can tell that she wants to go to bed. "Surprising - at least we did decently."

"Yeah, we did." Ezra yawns, tired from the long wait for all of the scores. At least they'll be finished soon - he can't wait to go to bed.

"And finally, District Twelve! Hex Hertz is up first, with a score of five, and Arisa Fetch has herself a score of three! Congratulations to these two - those are our scores! What does everyone think? We'll be checking these platforms next for reactions from..." the television drones on until Jo jumps up to shut it off, grinning ear to ear.

"You've done well, you two! Now, off to bed - we have a busy day tomorrow!" Jo escorts them to their bedrooms, waving to them before disappearing to their own bedroom. Ezra gives a loud yawn, crawling under the covers and beginning to doze off.

He has a lot to think about. But for now, he needs to sleep.

 **New chapter! Woohoo!**

 **We're getting closer to the Games :o only two more Capitol chapters until we reach the bloodbath! This is way too exciting for me, so I'll let y'all enjoy the chapter and have a lovely day. Thanks for reading!**

 **See you soon! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	24. Interviews: Listen Up

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
Capitol Citizen**

"Let's start at the beginning. One of you took advantage of the darkness to kill the first man, then slipped something into the drink of our second victim - Mr. Giles, am I correct?" She pauses to let the group nod, then continues. "Now, does anyone have a voucher for not killing Mr. Giles? I do know that Cassia was with a group of friends when the snow hit us, and that Gregoire supposedly was at the bar - a few patrons can testify to that fact, although the bartender says she wasn't there herself to witness him, but Valerie and Flavian only have each other, while Gianna has no one. But that does not account for our second victim - any of you could have done it."

"I said, I was in my _room_ ," Gianna mutters through gritted teeth. Her wildflower look has suddenly been transformed into something more dangerous, more venomous, as her face flushes red and her dress seems to grow paler in comparison. "Do I need to elaborate? I asked for an avox to deliver me a meal along the way, but he never arrived - I do wonder where he went. But I _did_ talk to him, and he went to get the meal - perhaps there are logs? I don't know, but I didn't kill. I didn't kill the man."

"Aren't we supposed to answer about Giles?" Valerie interjects. "I was in the hallway when the snow fell on the train, to go look for our friends, but we never got the chance to. I'm sure I was seen there by _someone_. But yes, Flavian and I were both talking to you in the time that the bartender would have poured the drink and handed it to Mr. Giles. It couldn't have been us."

"Giles was a pitiful excuse for a human being, but he wasn't worth my time," sniffs Gregoire. "I wouldn't have killed him. If I was going to kill someone, I'd rather do it the gentlemanly way - with a knife, or even with my bare hands. Wouldn't it be so much more well-earned?"

"I suppose," Carameuse replies with a wry smile. The snow is piling up on the windows once more, shrouding the room in darkness. Only the flickering lights above their head serve as their light, the artificial glow lighting up her face in an unpleasant manner. She'd prefer something less impersonal… like candles. She likes candles. "Now, that leaves Cassia. What's your excuse, my dear?"

"Drink?" whispers the bartender, passing a small champagne glass to Carameuse. "I know that you're examining them, but everyone needs a drink - right?"

Carameuse is polite enough to take it, letting the contents slosh back and forth as she tilts the glass. She gazes through the golden liquid, towards the suspects. No, it wouldn't have been Gregoire - even if he's against Ember, he's too brute-ish to kill with poison. And Valerie and Flavian? They struck her as the type who would entertain murder, but have too many insecurities to do something about it. Of course, lesser men and women had murdered with their motives, but she thinks it's safe to rule them out. But who would have poisoned the glass? Who would have slipped something into… unless…

"Actually, can I ask for your opinion?" she asks the bartender, the woman pausing and looking back at Carameuse. "What do you think of the murdered… the murdered..."

"The murdered avox?" the bartender replies, not missing a beat. "Oh, it's upsetting, but life goes on. After all, he was likely a criminal. And for Mr. Giles? I'm surely sorry, he seemed like a nice man. He did like his wine."

"But, but, but," Carameuse whispers, her eyes hardening into a harsh stare and her body rising from her seat, "no one ever said the man was an avox. Only _I_ knew that, and one other person on the train. Only one other would have known that the man was an avox and would have slashed up his mouth to hide that fact, and that person was _you_."

And as the bartender stumbles backwards, a scream forming on her cherry-red lips, Carameuse throws her drink at the woman.

 **Tourmaline de Metz, 18  
District One Female**

 _Deep breaths, Tourmaline._

She takes one, another, then exhales as slowly as she can. She's fighting away all the little bouts of nervousness that keep popping up when she isn't paying attention - the thought of the interviews tonight, the fact that almost half of the tributes are trying to take out her career pack, the fact that she's about to play the biggest game of her life in less than twenty-four hours, all are doing strange things to her stomach.

But she wouldn't be a One if she couldn't handle the pressure.

She'll make it through this.

"Tourmaline, you're _stunning_!" She looks up from the mirror that she's staring into while fiddling with one of her earrings, startled. It's Duchess. He - no, _she_ now that she's in drag - is as dressed up as Tourmaline is, looking beautiful in a skin tight dress that hugs every curve, the teal fabric stretching to cover her body. She's got a lace choker on, and she smirks when she sees Tourmaline's eyes widen. "Oh, honey, you've seen nothing yet."

Tourmaline gives her a small grin, fiddling with her own dress. The stylists have decided this year that silver is Tourmaline's colour - she's dressed in shiny silver fabric that doesn't leave much to the imagination, barely bothering to cover even part of her legs. It's uncomfortable, but they've assured her that it'll get her sponsors.

She'll do a lot to get sponsors.

She'll do even more to win.

"Oh, your chignon is coming a bit loose - would you like me to help you with it?" Duchess asks, her face concerned. Tourmaline nods, leaning back as Duchess plays with her hair. "You've got lovely hair - you're going to impress them all. It's a pity we have that alliance in the way, you know - we'll have to do something to… neutralize them when we get into the arena."

"We will," Tourmaline murmurs back. Duchess is silent for a moment as she twists Tourmaline's hair back and forth into a suitable chignon, admiring it in the mirror.

"Be careful, Tourmaline. They want blood," Duchess says, and then she's gone.

Tourmaline can't help but shiver.

 _Deep breaths, Tourmaline_.

Soon, the stylists flutter around her and make a few more adjustments before hurrying her through the halls. She's forced to run in her platform shoes, but she keeps steady and moves quickly to the stage. She hasn't taken five years of classes with One's finest teachers on the study of high heels, shoes, and how to walk properly for nothing - and now, she finally sees why she's done it.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" one whispers to her, pushing to the front of the line that's already formed. "You're on in three, two, one… go! Go, go go!"

Tourmaline nods. One step, two steps, ten steps later, she struts onto the stage and flashes her best smile to the audience. They scream, and she blows a kiss to them all. They go wild.

"Tourmaline de _Metz_! It's so good to have you here, darling - welcome to the party! Aren't you excited for this lovely girl?" Jasmine Antebellum winks at the crowd, and they scream in delight for the two of them. Tourmaline's blood is rushing through her veins, faster and faster as she sits down and gives one more smile to them all. It's so, well, _exciting_ to be up here. She can see why Jasmine's stayed on as the interviewer for three years now.

"I'm quite excited to be here! It's simply stunning to meet you all - I hope that you'll see more of me as well tomorrow!" Tourmaline purrs, letting a small smile play on her lips. It feels stupid to dumb herself down to just an object for the Capitol, but it seems to be working - they're screaming her name and tossing flowers at the stage, most of which fail to reach her. "Perhaps… perhaps you'll see more of me in more way than one."

"Oh, _Tourmaline_!" Jasmine breathes, and they continue chatting about her score and plan for the Games. Tourmaline's responses are easy - it's been drilled into her to sit still, look pretty, and smile for the crowd. She knows what she has to do. And soon, she'll get to show herself for what she really is.

 _Deep breaths, Tourmaline._

 **Shelby Doran, 17  
District Four Female**

"Welcome, Shelby! It's good to have you with us - how are you feeling tonight, my dear?" The interviewer begins to get the crowd cheering for Shelby, smiling all the while. "You look lovely in that dress!"

"Um, thank you?" Shelby can't help but feel confused by this entire spectacle - they're making a big deal out of nothing now, dressing the teens up in fancy clothes and parading them onto this stage while cheering at nonsensical things. Mags had told her to just play along with it all, but she doesn't know what she's supposed to play along _with_.

Oh well, the least she can do is smile.

"Oh, don't be such a shy gal! You must have a lovely time in Four - you look like you've come straight from the beaches and to our fair city in that teal! And those heels are to die for - who was your stylist?" Jasmine gasps, giving every word a curious trill that makes her voice sound like a melody that Shelby doesn't know.

"In a way, I suppose I did come from the beaches," Shelby grins. When she sees the confusion on Jasmine's face, she realizes what she's done wrong - Mags has warned her too many times to not mention Aloma to mess up at this point. She's a fool for slipping up in the first place. "But yes, my stylist was lovely! I think her name was Elena, or something pretty like that."

"It is a pretty name, almost as pretty as you!" A few wolf whistles come from the crowd when Jasmine winks, and Shelby blushes. She doesn't like that feeling of embarrassment, of feeling like she should apologize for something she didn't do. It's not right. "Now, Shelby - we all have one question that we've just been _dying_ to ask you. Why aren't you working with the career pack this year, especially when we've heard rumours of an alliance forming against them? Is it out of fear? Necessity? Do you have something planned for us all tomorrow?"

"Oh..." Shelby frowns, trying to decide how best to answer the question. "I guess… I guess you'll have to find out tomorrow."

Jasmine shrieks with laughter, and the audience follows suit with a round of raucous applause. And then Jasmine ushers Shelby off of the stage and away from the Capitolites so that she can greet Fraser, and Shelby's left alone sitting in her seat with her high heels digging into the flesh of her feet.

She wants to go home.

An old poem from times in Aloma long past pops into memory, and Shelby whispers it to herself as Fraser shouts to the crowd about his undying love for their mentor - she's not surprised by his confession. " _Away in a meadow,_

 _There's a burbling creek,_

 _It whispers a sad song,_

 _So tender, so meek._

 _And then the water comes._

 _The meadow is nervous_

 _With senses of dread_

 _The creek becomes swollen,_

 _Waiting to be fed._

 _And then the storm comes._

 _Turgid, boiling, bubbling,_

 _The creek rushes along_

 _It spills over the banks_

 _Knowing that it's wrong._

 _And then the flood comes._

 _It's greedy, it's hungry_

 _With tongues oh-so-blue_

 _It gobbles up flowers_

 _And makes a dream true_

 _For what was once a meadow_

 _There's now nothing left_

 _Just large rings of water_

 _Of storms, floods, and death._ "

It's nice to know that she still remembers that.

Fraser soon comes off the stage with a smile on his face, waving to Shelby. "How did I do?"

Shelby hides a laugh, thinking of what Mags must think of him by now. "You did well!" she tells him kindly, not wanting to make an enemy of the boy from Four. She's already worried enough by the battle tomorrow.

Fraser smiles, leaning over the tributes from Three to talk to some of the careers from Two. Shelby waits in her own seat for the interviews to finish with, yawning as she watches the stage be taken over by personality after personality. To her credit, Jasmine's able to accentuate all of them and showcase their good points to Panem. That's the reason why she must interview them all, even if Shelby doesn't understand _why_ exactly there are interviews in the first place.

She doesn't understand a lot. But what she does know is that tomorrow, she won't be running into what Mags has described as a bloodbath.

She'll be running for her life.

 **Magnolia Rosa-Tran, 18  
District Seven Female**

Lee smiles to herself, rubbing the baby bump that's under the white fabric that makes up her dress.

She can't help but notice that it rather looks like a wedding dress.

Tim's fidgeting behind her with a nervous expression on his face, stepping from one foot to the other as he waits for his turn to head onto the stage. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, now, Lee - what should I do? How should I talk to them?"

"Remember what Joe told you," Lee whispers back over her shoulder, ignoring the coughs coming from the girl from Eight. "Doesn't he want you to be funny? Tell some puns - you're very good at that. You will do fine, Tim - I'm sure you'll find a way to succeed."

"I'm ver- _tree_ good at telling puns, you mean," Tim giggles. He goes silent for a few minutes, obviously thinking up of some more to tell to the audience, and Lee resists the urge to laugh. He's a funny one, with his naive concern and love for life. She wishes for a second that she was fourteen herself, when she was on top of the world and thought she knew everything. No, she's in the real world now, with all of its concerns and stresses and baby bumps.

Is the Capitol the real world?

She doesn't know.

"Magnolia Rosa-Tran - you're up. Go, go, go!" whispers someone who must be an intern for the Capitolite interviewers, and Lee hurries to the stage. She slows her walk as she turns onto the stage and smiles to the audience, cradling her baby bump. Someone in the audience screams in concern, and suddenly the entire Capitol is yelling for her to not go into the Hunger Games. Someone throws a rose onto the stage, another throws a poster, and peacekeepers head into the audience with drawn tasers and their dark visors secured comfortably over their heads.

And for the first time, as the screams die away and Lee turns to face her obviously uncomfortable interviewer, she realizes what an asset her unborn child could be.

"Well… well… welcome, Magnolia! How are you doing this fine evening! You look gorgeous in that dress - oh, is that a magnolia flower in your hair? It's stunning, Magnolia!" Jasmine continues to speak, trying to get the Capitolites away from thinking of Lee's pregnancy. Lee hides a smile - it's funny to see the woman so thrown off.

"Yes, it is a magnolia! My stylists have outfitted me well - they've even made it comfortable! It's quite rare to find clothes that are comfortable and stylish in a pregnancy, don't you think?" she asks coyly, batting her eyelashes as if she's an innocent babe.

She's made her first jab.

"Oh - yes, well, I'm glad that you're comfortable!" Jasmine fumbles to continue the conversation on something less controversial, deciding to ask Lee about something else. "You received quite the high score in the private sessions - are you able to talk about it to us?"

Lee looks up at the gamemakers, knowing before seeing that they won't want her to. "I simply performed as best as I could, even with my pregnancy. I'm pleased with how I've done."

 _Another cut_.

She doesn't mention how she had performed with her axe for the gamemakers, able to use the weapon easily despite her limited maneuverability. She had ended the session with three throws at targets, each hitting the centre of the target and burying itself into the wall. She then had asked if there was a way that she could have her child exempt from the Games, that they didn't deserve to die in a conflict such as this.

The gamemakers had told her no, but Lee thought that she might have heard a tone of regret in their voices.

"Oh my, how intriguing! Let's give a round of applause to _Magnolia Rosa-Tran_ , everyone!" Jasmine shouts, raising Lee up from her seat to the cheering audience. A few are still screaming, but most of them have been threatened into silence.

Lee doesn't mention that her interview has been cut short, and instead decides to go with the safe option.

She gives the audience her most dazzling smile, rubbing her stomach all the while.

 **New chapter! More fun!**

 **We're six days away from the bloodbath :o one more tribute chapter, and we'll get there! In the meantime, enjoy these three. I've been writing steadily through the arena AND have made some progress, so that's always a relief. Hopefully, by the time I get to the bloodbath I'll be close to finishing!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	25. Last Hours: Toss And Turn

**Carameuse Heloise, 48  
Capitol Citizen**

The glass hits the bartender with a satisfying _smash_ , and Carameuse advances towards the terrified woman. "Of course it would have been you - after all, I wouldn't have kept you in this room if you had an alibi. But Gregoire didn't see you at the bar when the snow hit us, you were nowhere to be seen until it was time to come to this room, and you were the one handling the drinks. I suspect the forensic scientist will find that it was not the glass that was tainted, but the wine itself - you poisoned his favourite drink to make sure it wouldn't escape him."

"No, no, no, I did nothing of the sort!" protests the bartender, still stumbling backwards. Carameuse would call for one of the peacekeepers, but they're outside of the door for now, and the woman seems harmless for now. She'll let them be at this moment. "I - I - how?"

"Simple," replies Carameuse. "Someone paid you to kill them, because you're only a bartender, after all. You couldn't have organized the initial killings, but you're more than clever enough to take these two down. But why these two men? Why disguise the avox as a normal business man? As someone that he wasn't? And why did Mr. Giles need to die?"

The bartender's shoulders sag, and her eyes narrow - she's realized as well that there's no way out for her. "I - he died because he knew me. He knew that I worked for him, that I was _fired_ because I stole from him when I was his secretary - the only reason I listened to _him_ was because I could kill Giles. Then no one would have known about me - but you did!" She descends into a hysterical laugh, the sound sharp and piercing, and Carameuse takes an instinctive step backwards.

In the background, Cassia shrieks.

"Who is he?" Carameuse asks, staring down the bartender. "Who paid you, told you, convinced you that this was your only option? Did he kill the victims on Panem Day?"

"And more!" the bartender screams, her eyes seeming to roll back into her head. "And… there will be others."

"Will?" Carameuse starts to ask, but then she realizes why. Too late.

The bartender launches herself towards Carameuse, and together they sail towards the window until Carameuse's head hits it with yet another _smash_.

Before she falls into unconsciousness, all Carameuse can see is blood. Blood, the bartender's eyes, and the snow that's so, so, cold.

She thinks that she can hear a man screaming.

 **Luke Atkinson, 17  
District Eleven Male**

Luke's tired.

He glances over at Aloie, who's pointing through the window to something in the distance. "Look, Sean, stars! I haven't seen those since we left District Eleven!"

Sean smiles, his pale face illuminated by the warm light of the lamps in the hallway. "Beautiful, aren't they? If you want, you can adjust the settings in your room to look just like the stars from Eleven. It helps me get to sleep some nights."

"Oh, can I? That's lovely! I'll have to try it when we get back to the apartment." Aloie grins up at the evening sky, waving to a small star in the distance. "They all look different here than they do from Eleven, but they're still lovely. I'm so thankful for the stars. Aren't you?"

"The stars are certainly nice," Luke whispers over to Aloie. "I'll make sure that you see more of them tomorrow - I won't let you down."

Aloie blushes, stepping away from Luke. "You don't have to do that, you know."

"But I do!" Luke can't think of another way he can repay the debt that Aloie created for him - the way she cared for him when he was wasting away in the apothecary from the lashes the peacekeepers had given him, the way that she had healed him to near-perfection when others told him that he'd live with those scars for the rest of his life. She, of all people, deserves to be here the least.

He'll do anything to keep her alive.

Anything.

Sean leads them towards the elevator, where they stand and wait with the pair from Ten to board it up to their own floors. The boy and the girl - both of whom are in their alliance - wave to Luke and Aloie, the girl smiling confidently while the boy looks like he wants to sink into the floor. Luke yawns, waving back. He's tired, but it's good to see that their allies will be ready for tomorrow.

He hopes that everyone else will be.

"So, we have to avoid the careers or kill them - that's what Jackson wanted, right?" Ceres asks Luke, Aloie chatting to Cal about the stars. "I'd love to get rid of one of them, but we have to pick our battles. If we can keep everyone alive _and_ with supplies, there's no way they can beat all of us."

"Unless the gamemakers take the Games into their own hands," Luke warns, all too conscious of what they could do. He knows that they know about what he's done, what he stands for. He's not going to make it far. "Killing is the best option - it gets rid of them for all of us. What could be better than that?"

"True!" Ceres smiles at Luke, pushing her dark hair back behind her shoulder. Luke notices her freckled arms for the first time - freckles seem to cover her entire arms, yet only a sprinkling rest on her face. "We'll do well tomorrow, don't you worry."

"I hope." Luke steps into the elevator and stands next to Aloie, who's finished with her conversation with Callous. They, the Tens, Sean, and the mentor wait in the elevator as it rises above the building - the glass sparkles in the artificial light that's installed at the top, sending harsh, golden rays down to the other floors. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine floors pass before they reach the Tenth, and Aloie dodges away from the door so that the three can exit.

And suddenly, they're in their own suite - Sean taking an apple and biting into it. "You two sleep well - if you need anything at all, knock on my door. I'll be waiting. I never sleep on these nights, anyway," he says cheerfully, juice from the apple dripping down his chin.

"Alright!" Aloie skips away into her own room, and Luke stands still until Sean too enters his. Now he's all alone, standing in an apartment in a building made for the Capitol's victims. He might come back, but the odds are that he'll die tomorrow.

But, in his heart, he's alright with that. As long as he gets Aloie out, as long as the alliance survives, as long as someone lives to stand against the Capitol…

He won't die in vain.

 **Ceres Hemlock, 17  
District Ten Female**

Ceres is tired.

She locks the door to her room and waits for morning to come, her fatigue slowly lulling her closer and closer to sleep. Yet her eyes refuse to keep shut - they just won't close, even when she tries. She's far too panicked about tomorrow to sleep.

She's not ready to go. She's not ready to fight.

She doesn't want to die.

She gets up and fiddles with the remote, changing the chirping landscape of birds and squirrels in the forest to a soothing, dark night. Not a star's to be seen, and there's a low sound of rushing wind that fills the apartment with its slow, haunting song. It's almost as if she's back at home, listening to the prairie wind clean her home for the next day. She misses home.

She misses her family.

And blessedly, she falls asleep.

She wakes up at the crack of dawn - well, what should be the crack of dawn in the Capitol. The apartment is silent except for the sound of the wind, still blowing throughout the apartment, and Ceres flicks off the switch while yawning.

Then it hits her - she's fighting in the Hunger Games in a few hours.

She knows that she'll have to fight a career. There's no way around it, is there? Like Luke said, their only chance is to surprise a career and weaken the career pack to a point where they can't harm them all. And there are five of the careers to their ten - they could make it through the bloodbath. They could survive.

She hopes they do, at least.

Their mentor, that strange woman from the Capitol whose name sounds like she's from Twelve, is waiting outside with a cinnamon roll in her hand. "I had to get up early for this, and I don't know if it's worth it. Get your partner - we're leaving fairly soon, to the helicrafts. You've got to get going so that the gamemakers can get you all into the arena at the right time. I don't know what it's about - perhaps they just want an early start. You'll get more food when you get there, don't worry. They promised that to you all."

Ceres nods, heading to the door of Cal's apartment so that she can wake the boy. She knocks three times, hoping that it's enough to rouse her district partner. "Hey, we're about to leave. It's time to go."

Cal murmurs something on the other side of the door, and he's soon out in rumpled clothing and messy hair. Ceres smiles quietly, handing him a cinnamon bun and a cup of coffee - something that their mentor was kind enough to brew for them both. "We're supposed to get more food when we get there, which is nice. Might as well have a decent last meal, right?"

Cal doesn't smile back. He does take the coffee, though, sipping it before taking the cinnamon bun as well. Ceres licks a sticky trail of sugar off of her fingers, ignoring the look of disgust from the escort that's walked into the room. She isn't interested in earning the approval of Dormantine Lander.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" Dormantine says with a wave and a chirp, pushing them into the hallway. Ceres begins to protest, but then quiets - it's not worth the effort to question anything now. She needs to think. She needs to focus. "We're going, now! The helicraft is _waiting_!"

They head to the elevator and down, down, down to the first floor where they walk through the lobby and outside to the sight of a gleaming helicraft. Other tributes are clustered around their mentors, watching each other nervously. Ceres watches as the girl from Seven's taken away for a second by a few peacekeepers, who - what are they injecting into the woman? She can't tell - inject something into her arm before bringing her back to her district partner. The others seem unnerved by this, some rubbing arms while other whistle through their teeth.

No one's ready.

As peacekeepers bring them into the grey helicraft and strap them into utilitarian seats, pinning down their hands with rudimentary cuffs so that they can't attack each other, Ceres closes her eyes and pretends that she's somewhere else - somewhere other than here, anywhere but here.

She doesn't want to do this.

 **Armani DeCormick, 14  
District Six Female**

Armani is tired.

She stumbles into the helicraft, being eased into her seat by two peacekeepers before they strap and cuff her in. They won't allow anyone the advantage of being able to attack their competitors before the Games begin. It's a good thing - Armani's right across from the boy from One, who gives her a wicked grin before going back to merely observing the rest of the tributes.

The smile sends a shiver up her spine that doesn't seem to go away.

She waits for the helicraft to take off, and it finally does with a roaring noise that engulfs the air around her. Her eardrums seem ready to burst until, finally, the helicraft leaps into the sky and towards their arena.

She's not sure if she's looking forward to being dropped off or not.

She prepares herself for the long ride by closing her eyes and listening to the hum of the other tributes - the panicked breathing, the sharp releases of breath as the helicraft jolts through a rougher patch of air, the whispers between what must be the careers who are on this helicraft. She tries to identify who else is on here, but she only had bothered to notice Duchess, and the movements of the others blur into one noise that hums along with the helicraft.

She opens her eyes after what feels like only a few minutes, but to her surprise, the helicraft is close to landing. She looks at the other tributes, memorizing their faces before she'll have to leave for the last time. There's so many faces: the boy from One, the pair from Two, the girl from Three, the boy from Five, the boy from Six, the boy from Seven, Desdemona, - who looks like she's about to faint - the girl from Nine, the boy from Ten, the girl from Eleven, and Hex from Twelve.

And then the peacekeepers start walking towards the tributes from their positions by the doors, each brandishing a large syringe. "Hold still," one mutters, and Armani's too shocked to whimper as the sharp needle enters her skin and leaves her feeling like she's been bruised. "That's your tracker. Try not to touch it."

Armani nods mutely, sighing in relief when they uncuff her from her seat and let her stand up. Her legs feel numb from sitting for so long, and she rubs her wrists to get some circulation into her hands. Everything feels unreal - this isn't right. This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

Right?

Her stylist - Armani recognizes her from the interview preparation when she had to stand to be outfitted in her red dress - hurries towards Armani, flashing her a smile as she draws closer. "Hurry, hurry! We have food waiting for you, but we have to get you changed for the Games. You'll be starting in just a few moments!"

Armani gulps.

She's taken into a tiny room and told to undress, then shivers in her underclothes as she waits for her clothes. Then, all too suddenly, she's given them by the smiling stylist. She gets dressed in the black jeans, white shirt, and black jacket that she's given to wear, then puts on the silver-coloured shoes that the stylist provides her, which are surprisingly comfortable. The stylist hands her a crumpled piece of paper, which Armani recognizes with delight to be… to be the page that Rory brought her in the goodbye rooms. She tears up, giving the stylist a quick hug, but the stylist merely giggles and hugs her back. "Your token, my dear! Now, go eat. You're about to begin!"

Armani samples the bacon and eggs from the table of food that's in the corner of the room, then gobbles up a muffin. She feels ashamed by how quickly she's eaten in, waving a hand in apology to the stylist, but the woman giggles again and hands her a glass. "Drink! I suppose you must be thirsty, right?"

Armani nods, downing a glass of orange juice, then water, then more orange juice. When the thirst that's only recently appeared is sated, she hands back the glass and stares at the tube that she's supposed to step into. She's seen parts of it on television - the tributes all rise into his pedestals, then stand around the cornucopia for a minute before the Games begin.

She doesn't want to go. But when the stylist gestures to the tube, she steps inside so that her bravery doesn't fail her. And then the glass closes upon her, and she's stuck inside with her stylist waving goodbye from the room.

When it starts to rise, Armani prays that she'll stay brave.

 **:o Our next chapter's the bloodbath! It's happening, folks! We've finally finished our subplot - it'll pick up after the Games - and now we get into the _good_ stuff. Woohoo!**

 **Any predictions for our deaths/survivors? I'd love to see your thoughts on who'll make it through and such! Who knows, maybe you'll be right!**

 **We passed 200 reviews \o/ thanks to everyone for continuing to support this, and I hope you're all enjoying my rambling! I can only hope my arena suffices your expectations.**

 **Enjoy! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	26. Bloodbath: Too Far Gone

**.oOo.**

He wants to impress Mags with his first kill.

 **.oOo.**

 **Fraser Killick, 18  
District Four Male  
0 Kills**

Up and up and up and up he rises, his platform giving a little sigh of delight as it reaches the arena and clicks into place.

He's finally here.

He's finally here.

He can't wait to get going.

The arena's brighter than he thought it would be - they're in some sort of large room, with a gorgeous view of the grounds outside - are those houses in the distance, or just sheds, he wonders - that sparkle with the colours fresh, vibrant green grass, tall, whispering trees, and a burbling creek that rushes along in the distance. But they're not outside, not yet - they're inside, well, what seems to be a mansion.

Interesting.

Too late, he realizes that the counter's been ticking down for well over half a minute which means that he's about to start killing, and keeps shifting his gaze around to get a proper bearing on the other tributes. His fellow careers are on the other side of the circle of pedestals, pointed towards the gaping mouth of the cornucopia, while he has the girl from Twelve and the boy from Seven on his left and right respectively. Fraser'd like to go for Seven first - although he's smaller, the fact that he's more muscular will make for a harder kill.

He wants to impress Mags with his first kill.

When the counter reaches five, he remembers that most of the tributes are in that pesky alliance the others were worried about - how many of them were there again? - but it's too late to worry about it now. He'll kill a few, get to the cornucopia, and figure out the rest of his strategy from there.

When the gong sounds, he leaps towards the Seven and begins his first attempt at murder.

The boy from Seven is able to fight Fraser off at first, pushing him away before the little boy darts towards his allies, but Fraser is right on his heels. He snatches a spear that's lying on the grey-tiled floor, his shoes leaving a rhythmic tempo on the stone as he runs, and follows the boy from Seven. He aims and lets the spear fly through the air, just like he practiced.

It misses, unfortunately, but at least it lodges itself into the thigh of the boy from Eight.

Fraser's wasted too much time now, so he hurries towards the cornucopia where Aeson and Tourmaline are standing. They're both searching through supplies while Duchess keeps an eye out for the other tributes, who give the careers a large space for themselves. Duchess darts off suddenly, after a group of three who thought it wise to grab some supplies and run, and Fraser laughs to himself. No one's ready to fight the careers yet.

Yet there's a growing group of grey in the distance - everyone's dressed in nonchalant grey slacks and shirts here, an interesting choice by this year's stylists - and they look angry. Or anxious. Maybe both. He's never been good at gauging emotions.

When he reaches the careers, he sees that there are already two bodies at their feet. "You guys already got busy?" he asks lightly, grabbing a trident to arm himself with. "Well, leave some for the rest of us!"

Tourmaline shakes her head, and Fraser notices the cut on her cheek. It looks bad, yet she doesn't seem to notice the blood that trickles down from the wound and drips down her chin to stain her shirt. "We got the girl from Twelve and the girl from Six, - they thought it was a good idea to rush themselves at us headlong - but there are others. And Enyo's all by herself - go to her, please."

"Alright," he shouts, then grabs a second trident just to make sure that he's ready to fight.

He'll do well.

After all, the trident feels just right in his hands, and when he aims it at the throng of allies, it flies through the air as straight as any arrow.

 **.oOo.**

He has to run.

 **.oOo.**

 **Tristan Locke, 18  
District Eight Male  
0 Kills**

Like an arrow, he's off his pedestal and running to the group once the gong sounds. The girl from Four seems to be frozen on her pedestal, unwilling to move, yet the girl from Five merely grabs a pack next to her pedestal and disappears from view. She's presumably running from the bloodbath, but Tristan doesn't bother to follow her. Even though she's the closest tribute to him for now, she's none of his concern.

He's working with the alliance for now.

Ceres is the first tribute he notices that's part of the group, so he runs towards where she's standing. She smiles briefly when he reaches her, pointing to the cornucopia. "Should we get there, or wait?"

"Jackson never said anything - maybe we should wait and see," he cautions. "Oh, there's Tim!" the small boy from Seven is running as fast as he can towards them, the boy from Four on his heels. As Tristan watches, the boy from Four lifts his spears and throws with all his might - all the way to Tristan's leg.

One second he's standing, the next he's kneeling on the ground and clutching his thigh with a grunt of pain. "Are you okay?" Ceres asks as she rips the spear out, Tristan in too much pain to tell her that it's best to leave it in. But the blood loss is starting to make him woozy, so he can do nothing but nod.

"I'm - I'm okay, I think," he mutters as he climbs back up to his feet. The others have suddenly arrived in a massive clump of tributes, yet none of them seem to be noticed by the careers yet. Perhaps it's because the careers are dealing with a group of girls at the cornucopia. "What's the plan?"

"Alright, so we should get some of us to the cornucopia and others to fight careers - oh, we should have planned this more. Just - just go and do something, and stay alive. That's the best thing -" begins Jackson, who's standing at the edge of the group, before giving a cry of surprise and dodging a slash of a sword from the girl from Two.

They've been found.

A trident whistles through the air and towards the group, burying its sharp head in Ceres' foot this time. She rips it out, not even wincing, and runs towards the girl from Two, screaming something to Tristan… to… to run, he realizes with surprise.

He has to run.

Tristan staggers to his feet and tries to run from the girl, but he's too weak to make it far. To his surprise, she doesn't notice him yet - instead, Ezra is her first victim. Her sword slips under his ribs before she stabs it through his back and back out, letting the small boy from Nine slide down to the floor. But Ceres is right behind her, and Emma too, and they circle her with knives and fierce glares.

As the three begin to fight, Tristan looks at the rest of the tributes around him. There's Sasha, who's running from the boy from Four with a scream forming on his lips, and then the two from Eleven, who are sticking close together while trying to fight the boy from Two - and losing. The alliance. Is falling apart, they're too big to properly work together and gang up on the careers. They haven't planned this out, they haven't done enough to protect themselves in the bloodbath. They're all going to die, and he'll be one of them.

And then, all too soon, he realizes that he'll be the next.

At least the girl from One's dagger finishes him off quickly.

 **.oOo.**

There's no time to dwell on it.

 **.oOo.**

 **Enyo Bedford, 18  
District Two Female  
1 Kill**

The girl from Ten dies quickly - although she dealt Enyo a nasty blow to her left arm, Enyo was able to stab her through the side with her spear before getting a lucky strike to the neck. The girl had fallen to the floor and bleeds out too fast for her ally to save her - instead of continuing to fight, the girl from Nine's momentary courage leaves her. She runs away before Enyo's able to kill her as well.

No matter, Enyo has other tasks at hand. She runs back to Aeson, who's just finished off the boy from Eleven. He tries to get the other girl, but she slips out of reach and towards the rest of her alliance - who seem to be preparing to flee. "I'll get - get them!" she calls to Aeson, then chases after the alliance.

She'll go fight the good fight.

Fraser is there, and he's taking a beating - to Enyo's dismay, the boys from Five and Six seem to have him outmatched with the long swords that they had scrounged for from the cornucopia. With two fell swoops, Fraser's trident is knocked out of his hand, and a blade is sent straight into his stomach. He looks over at Enyo, a helpless glance transforming his face into a look of terror, then collapses on the mahogany carpet under his feet.

"Fraser!" she screams, tackling the boy from Five and stabbing him over and over again. The boy from Six is knocked over as well, scrambling away from her as she continues stabbing his ally. "Fraser!"

When the boy from Five is finished off, she crawls over to Fraser. He's barely breathing now, raising a hand and trying to whisper some name she doesn't understand. But as soon as he says it, his hand falls back down into the growing pool of blood on his chest, and his breath grows weaker… shallower… before she knows it, he's gone.

There's no time to dwell on it. As she's discovered, there's never time for her to dwell on things in the arena, yet she takes one helpless glance back at her ally before running towards the large alliance that they'd sworn to destroy. In the corner of her eye, Duchess is fighting the tributes from Three and the boy from Twelve next to the glass window that frames the huge room. The boy from Twelve trips over a large carpet and goes sprawling on the ground, Duchess burying his dagger into his neck and making a ragged cut through the boy's skin. As he gets up to chase the others, the boy smashes the window and they jump out. They're safe for now, as Duchess has obviously had enough of their fight.

He knows that he has to help _her_ instead.

She's quick to get to the group - they don't notice her until she tackles the boy from Seven, slashing wildly with her spear to make sure he dies quickly. She's not letting him get away now. She's not letting him survive this.

She's not going to let any of them survive this.

 **.oOo.**

And she runs likes the wind.

 **.oOo.**

 **Emma von Hapsburg, 17  
District Nine Female  
0 Kills**

She's the one who knocks the girl from Two off of Tim, clawing at her hands with desperation until the girl backs away, knowing that Emma will put up too much of a fight to let her kill Tim just like that. No, Emma's not going to let them all die if she can help it - she wants to get the rest of the alliance out of here and into the arena while she still can. But Jackson seems to be frozen still, Callous is _missing_ , and Aloie is too young to fight - not that she would, with her medical background or whatnot.

No, it's up to her right now.

And if she can stop the career, nothing will stop them from escaping the cornucopia.

Jackson throws a knife that he must have found near the cornucopia and Emma plucks it out of the air, breathing heavily. The girl from Two is coming closer now, the boy from One not far behind, and the rest of the careers are - no, they're not coming. They're fighting with the girl from Four, bless her, who seems to be putting up a decent fight as she tries to push away from them and get to a door. So far, she hasn't a chance with the girl from One and boy from Two tag-teaming her in their battle, but Emma hopes that she'll get away.

It'll be one more distraction.

The girl from Two charges towards her now, screaming something unintelligible, and Emma dodges her sharp spear. Praying that it'll work, she grabs the shaft before the girl has a chance to yank it back, and _pulls_ with all of her might. The girl, surprised, gets pulled along with the spear.

She crashes into a couch, trying to get back up as soon as she does so, but Emma throws away the spear before she has a chance to get it taken by the larger career.

 _Now_ , it's a fair game.

Jackson is tussling with the boy from One now, who's trying to get to Aloie and Tim with his slender frame and sharp daggers, but Emma doesn't bother watching out for him. She has to pay attention to the girl from Two instead - a good thing, because she'd be knocked down if she hadn't paid attention to the Two rising from the couch and making a grab for her knife. Emma pulls it away, a small sigh escaping her lips, and she leaps backwards so she can turn around and run.

And she runs likes the wind.

She's halfway across the room, far away enough from Aloie and Tim for them not to be noticed as Aloie treats her Aloie, when the girl from Two catches up to her. This time, Emma's knocked to the ground by the girl's wild tackle - her knife almost escaping her grasp.

Almost.

Emma slashes back at the girl's hands, who screams at her before pulling Emma back. Standing up, the career lifts her foot above Emma's head - but before she sends it coming back down, Emma rolls out of the way and pushes herself back up.

The career is knocked off balance by the absence of Emma's head, and Emma takes those precious seconds to mount once last attack. Once, twice, she slashes at the girl's face - one cut above her eyes, the other on her cheek. Stumbling, the girl cries out in pain and tries to step away from Emma, but she's not letting her go now. Emma knocks the blinded career down, letting her knife sink deeper and into the back of the girl's neck before pulling to the side as hard as she can.

When the girl screams, Emma thinks that it means that she's still alive. But as she makes her next cut, a ragged line across the girl's throat, she realizes that the career's breathing is growing lighter and lighter and lighter until…

Until her breathing _stops_.

 **.oOo.**

They're going to get away. Except…

 **.oOo.**

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
District Six Male  
1 Kill**

When five of his own had died just like that, he thought that would be the end of them all.

But when he had killed the boy from Four - when Emma had killed the girl from Two without batting an eye - as he fights with the boy from One, he realizes that the rest of them might just make it.

Behind him, Tim coughs weakly as Aloie likely tends to his wounds. Without looking, Jackson knows that it's bad - when a guy's been stabbed that many times in the chest, it's never good. But in the Hunger Games? When he already has a one-in-twenty-four chance of living?

Tim would need a miracle to live through this.

Emma runs back to them as the boy from One slashes again at Jackson, Jackson still fending off the blow readily with his sword. As he glances back, he looks stunned - he didn't expect the girl from Two to die like that. He didn't expect the outliers to put up a fight like they are.

He looks back again, curses, then lets his dagger cut through the skin of Jackson's upper arm. But as Jackson rears back, howling from the pain, the career takes it as his chance to run towards his ally.

"We have to go!" Emma screams at him, her face red with exhaustion and bright red specks of blood, which serve as a sharp contrast to the freckles on her face. "We have to go, Jackson! We can't linger here! If we don't get moving, we _die_. Okay?"

"I - I -" Jackson shoots a glance towards the careers, who are only getting closer to finishing off the girl from Four. He feels a twinge of pity for the teen, but only a twinge. He's more concerned about the plight of Tim, who's still wheezing behind him. "But what about Tim? We can't just _move_ him like that, there's blood loss and all of that..." he shakes his head fiercely, pointing towards the careers. "They're not coming yet, and they won't come until they kill her or she leaves. We have _time_ , Emma."

"We don't!" Emma's voice is shrill and desperate, and Jackson thinks that she might have tears in her eyes. Maybe it's sweat. "This is our chance to put as much ground between us and them - Jackson, we can't wait. We have to leave Tim - we can't bring him if he slows us down, we have to go, we have to go, we have to _go_."

"We can't just _leave_ him!" Aloie shouts, still kneeling next to the small boy. His breathing is shallow but rapid, and his eyes are darting in their direction. He's just as frightened as they are. "No, we have to help him. If I had some herbs, some bandage, we could do something with him -"

"But you don't." Emma cuts Aloie off from finishing her sentence, pointing to the careers. "We have to get away. They'll let him die quickly, I'm sure."

"Hey! Hey! _Hey_!" Jackson looks backwards, startled by the sharp cry, and to his surprise it's _Callous_ that's running towards them. He has an armful of bags and is running full-tilt towards the alliance, away from the fighting careers. He didn't disappear on them, Jackson realizes, but he hid near the cornucopia - waiting until the moment was right to swoop in and grab supplies for them.

They're going to get away. Except…

"What do we do about Tim?" he asks Emma, who looks back with a confused look. "We can't just leave him here for the careers to add to their kill count, we have to bring him or do something. I don't know what to do. I just don't know."

Emma's glance shifts between Aloie and Jackson. She kneels down slowly, as if to slip her arms under his shoulders to carry him, and Jackson moves to the boy's legs. So, they'll -

Then he sees the glint of her knife as it sails towards Tim's throat. As a spray of blood coats her shirt, Aloie screams.

"That's our solution," Emma states bluntly. She looks just as stunned as any of them by what she's done, but there's a steely look in her eyes that tells Jackson that she doesn't regret it. "Now, _run_!"

Jackson takes one desperate glance back at the careers, sees them pushing the girl from Four and descending upon her with their blades, then looks back at Emma and the others with a nod.

They run through the door opposite to the careers and out into the sunshine, the girl's screams still ringing in their ears.

 **.oOo.**

Then, quite suddenly, he sees the mist.

 **.oOo.**

 **Antimony Sinebad, 15  
District Three Male  
0 Kills**

He had smashed the large window with a chair just before Hex was killed by the boy from One, pushing Electra through and stumbling through the glass to the arena outside. The boy from One must have decided that it wasn't worth it to follow them, as he stalked back to the cornucopia instead of trying to take another one of their alliance down. Dumb luck, that's all it took for him to be the one running after Electra to the forest in the distance instead of being killed by someone at the cornucopia.

Is it bad that he doesn't feel sorry for his former ally yet?

"Here, we can stop," Electra gasps when she reaches the comfort of the forest, and Antimony sinks to a comfortable position next to a large oak tree. "We - Hex is dead, oh, oh, oh."

Her face crumples up at the thought, as if she's about to cry, and Antimony scrambles to comfort her. "There, there, we're still here," he soothes. "You can still get back home. You can still win."

"I'll miss him," she whispers, then falls into silence.

Antimony sits close to his ally and looks out into the arena, observing its features to pass the time until Electra decides to get moving again. They're at the edge of a small forest for now, which can't go on for too long considering that he can see the faint light of daylight on the other edge, but the arena seems to be made mostly up of a lawn or meadow or plain that goes on for quite a while. He can hear a river or a creek in the distance, the dull roar of rushing water distinguishable from the various sounds of the forest, and he can see a few small buildings in the distance - perhaps they're garden sheds or greenhouses, something of the sort. He's not close enough to tell what they are, anyway.

On his other side, there seems to be a mountain - it starts at the furthest edge of the forest and climbs up and out of sight, above the tallest trees in the forest. He wonders if any of the tributes will end up going there - perhaps there'll be something of note at its peak.

Then, quite suddenly, he sees the mist.

It's faint at first. It lingers around the mansion in the distance before starting to creep across the grass, swallowing up bushes and stretches of lawn as it does so. Antimony realizes with a start that he can't see anything through it. It's too thick to properly see through, and it's coming closer and closer and closer and soon - and it's coming towards _them_.

"Should we move?" he asks Electra, who's still leaning against a tree, and she peers at the mist before nodding. They walk quickly through the forest to a circle of bushes that feels like protection of some sort, sitting themselves down in it before the mist swallows them whole. "It's so thick - you can't see more than ten feet in this. Is it going to be like this every day, or do you think we'll have days without it?"

"Shh!" Electra hisses, and points to the sky. "The cannons - they're starting!"

The two fall silent, counting the one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve cannons that ring through the sky before leaving the arena for good.

Twelve left.

 **Twelve left indeed - yes, it's a surprise (that I didn't kill more because like everyone I talked to was convinced I would just finish the Games here instead of, you know, having fun in the arena)!**

 **24th: Arisa Fetch, District Twelve Female; Killed by Aeson Humpford. Created by Galaxy842.**

Arisa was a decent girl who didn't deserve what happened to her, but tried her best even when she knew it wasn't enough. She entered the Capitol with a very quiet, calm demeanour, and left the same way - she didn't change at all. Looking for an alliance proved to be her downfall - she followed Armani into the bloodbath and got themselves killed when they ran into the careers. Hopefully, Desdemona will fare a bit better than Arisa.

 **23rd: Armani DeCormick, District Six Female; Killed by Tourmaline de Metz. Created by EllaRoseEverdeen.**

Armani was a deeply interesting girl who I didn't give the chance to be explored fully - something that I'll probably regret in the future. But with the alliance that she had chosen and her weaknesses, she wasn't going to make it far past the bloodbath, if at all. In the end, the fact that she was in the path of a few careers sealed the deal, and she became the next to die. Thank you, EllaRoseEverdeen, for Armani.

 **22nd: Ezra Winfield, District Nine Male; Killed by Enyo Bedford. Created by OfficialBengy.**

Ezra was one of the more fun littles, with a detective background and curious nature that let him explore the world around him. Unfortunately, his time in the Capitol proved to be a bit more mundane than it should have been, and he died after joining the large alliance and being attacked by Enyo. In the end, he was just too headstrong and too small to survive an attack by a career - becoming the next to die. Thanks, OfficialBengy, for Ezra.

 **21st: Tristan Locke, District Eight Male; Killed by Tourmaline de Metz. Created by Manectric11.**

Tristan was one of the rebels who was going to die one way or the other - the Capitol wasn't going to let someone who was so prominently known in an attack by their own forces win the Games, let alone make it past the bloodbath. They didn't have to rig it, though - he got caught by a good throw from Fraser and then couldn't run when the careers came to destroy the large alliance, which meant that he merely had to wait to die. It wasn't something he deserved - no, he didn't deserve that - but he was merely waiting to die here. It just came a bit sooner than he thought. Thanks, Manectric11, for Tristan!

 **20th: Ceres Hemlock, District Ten Female; Killed by Enyo Bedford. Created by mellissa rose.**

Ceres was one of the spunky girls who could have made it much further, but one impulsive move did her in and she ended up being one of the first five to die. To be honest, it was probably joining the alliance that sunk Ceres' chances - she was smart and strong, and could have gotten out if she stayed by herself. But she chose to work with them instead, and that eventually got her killed when she came up against Enyo of all people. Ceres could have been a major threat, but I'm happy with where she ended up here. Thank you to her submitter for Ceres!

 **19th: Luke Atkinson, District Eleven Male; Killed by Aeson Humpford. Created by MysticalPineForest.**

Luke was another one of the rebels - but he didn't really have the strength to back up all of that untapped aggression. He succeeded in one thing, keeping Aloie alive, so he did die happily, but what a waste! Luke could have made it further, but it was his immense loyalty and need to pay back the life that he thought Aloie had given him that sent him in with this singular goal of keeping his district partner alive. I believe I played it a bit too one-note here, but in the end it was what it was. Thank you, Pine, for Luke!

 **18th: Sasha Sone, District Five Male; Killed by Enyo Bedford. Created by Taetum.**

Sasha was the last of the rebels to die here - yes, Colleen made it out because she actually ran unlike her fellow fools! - and boy, I think we were all waiting for him to die. He was unlikeable, rude, and didn't want to play along with anything. I suspect he might have been dead-weight to the alliance if he continued, either leading to a major confrontation or him attacking one of them, but he died in the bloodbath because he didn't think to run from the cornucopia and hoped that he wouldn't be noticed by one of the stronger players - he was. Thank you, Taetum, for Sasha.

 **17th: Fraser Killick, District Four Male; Killed by Jackson Kennedy. Created by santiagoponcini20.**

I still don't understand how Santiago managed to dream up someone this crazy, but he did it and Fraser became one of the strangest careers this year. He was so driven for such a strange cause - I mean, aren't we all? - but he took it far enough to the point where he didn't realize that his skills were quite up to par with the rest of the careers. He was the dumb muscle of the alliance who ended up getting tricked by the large alliance into being fought by two of their stronger members, leading to his untimely death. Fraser had been a bloodbath for the majority of my plans, but I still have a fond spot in my heart for him - he was undeniably goofy and fun to write. Thank you, Santiago, for Fraser! No, you are not allowed to send another Killick-related tribute in next year. I will spontaneously combust if you do so.

 **16th: Hex Hertz, District Twelve Male; Killed by Duchess Curoscate. Created by SilverflowerXRavenpaw.**

Hex was a quiet, nice guy who was in a little alliance that _should_ have been overlooked, but the careers played their cards way too well. Electra, Antimony, and Hex were quite the group, all supporting each other and hoping to make it out, but Duchess noticed them grabbing supplies and headed to get a kill. I think that Hex would be satisfied to know that his death meant that his allies escaped - he had always been selfless and was a genuinely kind person throughout his time in the Games. If he hadn't died here and wasn't from Twelve, he very well could have been my victor. Thank you, Silver, for Hex!

 **15th: Enyo Bedford, District Two Female; Killed by Emma von Hapsburg. Created by paperairline.**

The surprise death of the bloodbath, Enyo died when she tried to kill a few too many members of the biggest threat in the game. Enyo gets hyper-focused in fights and I used that to the alliance's disadvantage - but it paid off when Emma was strong enough to overwhelm this weakened career. Enyo had always been fighting to survive, fighting to prove that she was stronger than what people thought of her autism and weaknesses, and she did - netting three kills out of the nine who died before her. That's a third of the field! She'll be missed by the careers for her strong attitude and stronger fighting skills, and I'll miss her as well. Thanks, paper, for Enyo.

 **14th: Timber Sycamore, District Seven Male; Killed by Emma von Hapsburg. Created by NyanToDaMax145.**

Timber was one of the goofier tributes this year, always with a pun in mind and a jovial attitude that endeared him to a lot of people. I tried to play up the fact that even though he was strong, he was still tiny and didn't have a very good idea of how others viewed him when he tried to look for people to join the alliance. He didn't find many, but the fact remains that he tried and never gave up on what he set out to accomplish. Thank you to NyanToDaMax145 for Tim!

 **13th: Shelby Doran, District Four Female; Killed by Aeson Humpford. Created by RoadieMcRoadface.**

Shelby is probably the most controversial death of this bloodbath - wasn't she going to run? Why did she get caught by the careers? The fact is that she got overwhelmed by the bloodbath and simply didn't know where to go - past the cornucopia seemed like a simple enough strategy, and by the time she unfroze and ran from her pedestal the careers were waiting for her. Don't worry, though, she did leave behind more than her share of wounds for the careers to take care of now that the bloodbath's over. Shelby was a fun tribute - I loved her backstory and her naivete, yet the fact that she wouldn't hesitate to fight. Thank you, Roadie, for a great gal who should have never been in Panem to begin with.

 **That's our bloodbath! What are your thoughts? Yes, I know that it's a lot of deaths and alliances died in ways we didn't expect and everything was ahhhhhhhhhhhh but I hope it made sense and some of the deaths had resonance for you all. We're heading into the arena now - I've written up to the fifth of ten chapters for the arena, so that's cool! - and we're going to see how everyone has reacted to the fact that they're officially in _The Hunger Games_. Soon enough, only one will be left.**

 **Read, review, enjoy! I'll see you soon with another chapter. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	27. Arena I: Currents

**.oOo.**

Perhaps a smaller stage will prove to be all the more entertaining.

 **.oOo.**

 **Electra Mancuso, 16  
District Three Female  
0 Kills**

"Well… I guess they won't find us here," she manages to whisper to Antimony as the mist continues to move throughout the forest. No one will be able to properly move throughout the arena if it lasts all day - perhaps it's the game maker's solution for the arena being on the small side. She hasn't seen much of it yet, but the mountain close the forest looks more like a hill than anything - except for the tall cliff, the clouds hang low over the forest, and the river seems to be closer than she thinks. It can't be more than a mile across the arena - no, unless there's something beyond that mountain, it will be a smaller arena.

Perhaps a smaller stage will prove to be all the more entertaining.

Antimony groans, shifting in place to get more comfortable in the bushes. Electra doesn't like sitting in the bushes much, either: they're scratchy and don't give them enough room to properly sit up. But they're an extra barrier between themselves and the other ten tributes in here, and she's grateful for that. Even with the mist, she'd feel naked in this arena without something like the bushes to surround her.

After all, they'll hear someone if they try to come in through the bushes.

"When do you think the mist will clear?" Antimony mutters after a few moments, his eyes firmly closed. Perhaps he's trying to nap. "I guess we just have to hunker down and wait it down, ugh."

"They'll have to lift it eventually. Maybe they'll lift it after a day and this is to let everyone spread out so the Games last longer?" Electra ponders the question for a moment, trying to think of what the game makers might do. She wishes she paid more attention to the Games - if she was a Capitolite, she might have been intrigued by the planning that went into them, the calculations needed to make a stellar arena and something that fit all of the tributes entering it, and she would have become a gamemaker in her own time.

But she doesn't think about it for long - after all, she's not a Capitolite, she's Electra. She's from nice, quiet District Three, and she likes it that way.

"I suppose they needed something to let everyone scatter before the careers go hunting." Antimony shrugs and sits back up, opening his eyes. "We'll get it easy for now - unless the mist lifts and the careers go hunting. When it does, we need to find a better place to hide or we'll be found."

Electra nods, shuddering at the thought of being found by the careers. "When do you think they'll start looking for us? How many would there be left, even?"

"There should be all five of them left, but there's that alliance, and..." Antimony seems to calculate the odds in his head, giving a little nod of satisfaction when he's happy with his answer. "I'll say a tentative four. Maybe more, maybe less. Do we have any water, by the way?"

"Hmm, we have some in the packs, in the packs, I think," is Electra's reply, and they sit together in awkward silence before Antimony reaches over to take some of the water. He must be getting annoyed with her - Electra knows that Antimony enjoys discussing things with others, like Hex, but she just can't think of anything to say to pass the time. There's nothing to say when they're trying to pass an afternoon in suffocating mist, the chilly air tugging at their grey shirts and pants while they lie in these bushes.  
For now, she'd just like to be quiet.

 **.oOo.**

She's still not quite used to being the one in charge.

But she'll learn.

 **.oOo.**

 **Tourmaline de Metz, 18  
District One Female  
2 Kills**

"Well..." Aeson seems to be flummoxed by the mist covering the arena, hiding everything - the grass, the tributes, whatever mutts could be out there - from their view. "Hunting's not going to be easy, is it?"

Duchess gives a grunt as he pulls the last body - the girl from Twelve - onto their pile for the gamemakers to collect, looking up to see the mist as well. "Might as well relax if we're going to get this chance, right? We should explore this place - maybe there's a shower! A bath, even!" Tourmaline stifles a laugh as Duchess nearly salivates at the thought, and shakes her head.

It's only been an hour or so since they've been dropped into the arena. They barely have any need for a shower, except for the blood that stains their clothes. She focuses on wrapping the wounds that she's received in the bloodbath - a scratch here, a cut over her forehead there - with clean, fluffy bandages that she's coated in antiseptic and other creams to help them heal. She won't let them get infected here, not when she has every opportunity to take care of them. It would be a waste to ignore them all. She'll use all of the medical supplies at her disposal - even if most of them are hidden behind bags of salt. _Salt_!

When they've finished stacking the bodies and cleaning most of their wounds, Tourmaline speaks up to get the boys' attention. "We should find a place to clean ourselves up, then head into the arena. If we can." Tourmaline hopes her voice seems authoritative enough to make the others listen: thankfully, they nod and follow her to the door. She's still not quite used to being the one in charge.

But she'll learn.

"It's a pity that Enyo and Fraser died like that - we go from being nearly half of the tributes to only a third of them. I guess that when we go hunting, it'll always be one of us Ones and then Aeson so he doesn't get scared of us banding together and killing him?" Duchess laughs at the thought, and Aeson pales slightly. Tourmaline merely shrugs: the guys might bicker, but for now they know that it's best to stick together. They'll take out the other nine tributes before turning on each other.

"Hey, I'm fine with you two going out together!" Aeson huffs. He bumps into a portrait as they walk through the narrow hallway, reaching to steady the fierce glare of what resembles President Ember before hurrying to catch up with Tourmaline and Duchess. "I don't think you'll betray me just yet."

"That'll be your mistake," Duchess murmurs. It's too low for Aeson to hear, yet the boy looks suspiciously over at his ally before shrugging his shoulders.

They round the corner of the narrow hallway and into a larger room, something that's obviously made out to be some sort of living room. There's a large couch, tall curtains to hide the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a bowl of confectionary that the boys promptly take handfuls of. Tourmaline takes the rest, being sensible enough to take the bowl for herself - she'll never know when it may come in handy.

And she gets the rest to herself, after all.

"Hey, there's bedrooms over here!" calls Aeson as he hurries through a few doors. His muffled voice catches the attention of both Tourmaline and Duchess, who pass the starch-white doors to enter a cream-coloured bedroom. It's a soothing colour that lends itself to quite a calming bedroom, with light grey sheets and fluffy, warm pillows on top of the bed in the centre of the room. If Tourmaline didn't know better, she'd believe that this was one of the Capitol's own bedrooms.

It's nothing at all like home.

"Ooh, a bathroom! I gotta go, just wait a few minutes," Aeson rushes, hurrying into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. While he's gone, Duchess and Tourmaline explore the rest of the bedrooms - four in total, each with its own colourful array of luxury items and goods. Duchess pockets whatever sharp edges he comes across, telling Tourmaline that he's doing so to make sure that no one gets close to stealing what could be used against them, but Tourmaline doesn't pay much attention to him.

It's beautiful in here - she just wishes that this is where they could spend their time in the arena.

She's not ready to leave yet.

 **.oOo.**

He still doesn't know what to think about that.

 **.oOo.**

 **Callous Lecket, 17  
District Ten Female  
0 Kills**

He's still surprised that they've gotten away.

They're huddled in a small group near what must be the creek that they heard while running through the arena, under what would be the shade of a large oak tree that stands at the edge of the meadow. It was useful to keep the sun from blinding them in the arena and exhausting them with its heat - well, if it wasn't for the mist.

"Do you think it'll go away, or will it be like this for the rest of the Games?" Aloie asks as she rummages through the bags that Callous had taken from the cornucopia. He's proud of the fact that he had gotten all of those for the alliance - it had taken a while, but eventually the careers had drifted far away enough from the cornucopia for him to pop up from under a tablecloth and into the cornucopia. He hadn't been picky - five bags and off he went to the rest of the alliance. "I hope it isn't, honestly. I'm not ready to not see the sun for a week."

"At least it helps hide us from the careers," Emma points out, and they all fall into silence. Callous hadn't thought about it, but it's true - the mist shrouds them in their own little space, hidden from the other tributes, and it must dampen whatever sounds they make. It's helpful for the outliers - and not for the careers. For now, they're safe. "I like having this as a safety cushion - we can't be more than a few hundred metres from the mansion. They'd find us easily if it wasn't for the mist."

"Do you think anyone tried to climb the mountain?" Jackson muses, stretching against the trunk of the tree. He looks tired, but he has the right to be - after all, he's one of the two who killed to save what remains of the alliance in the bloodbath.

Him, and Emma - who killed Tim, putting him down like Callous' dad forced him to do to one of the sickly lambs last year in the spring. He still doesn't know what to think about that. He's not sure how he'll react.

At least it isn't _him_ she's doing it to, right?

"Probably," Aloie replies absently. "I've sorted everything! We have our medical supplies, in my bag, food in another, miscellaneous objects in this one, and weapons in here. The sword can't fit, but the others can!" She gestures to the array of bags at her feet, ranging from light blue to dark red. "I sprinkled some bandages and knives in some bags where they shouldn't be so that if anyone get separated, they'll have more than one thing to help them out. Sounds good?"

"Alright, so we'll stay here until night falls or we need to look for a place to hide when the mist clears," Jackson says loudly. He catches the attention of all three, who turn around to look at him. "Now, when -"

Then they all pause, because they've just heard a sound that should not be there.

Somewhere behind them, someone - something? - is splashing through the water.

 **.oOo.**

She doesn't want to think about what could happen because of that.

 **.oOo.**

 **Aloie Church, 12  
District Eleven Female  
0 Kills**

Emma is the first to react, grabbing a knife and pointing in the direction of the creek. "We'll split up - Jackson with Aloie, Callous with me. We'll search for whoever it is and make sure that they're not a threat. If it's a career, we _run_."

Aloie nods, too nervous to say otherwise. She takes two of the packs and the others split them amongst themselves, each taking a knife. Jackson takes his sword and they split up, walking towards where the creek should be. Oh, if only the mist could lift!

It's tricky to walk through the mist - Aloie nearly trips over a stump that appears out of thin air, and Jackson curses when he falls over a rock. But he gets back up, and they continue until Jackson puts up a warning hand. "There's a drop here."

Aloie walks to catch up with him and sucks in her breath when she sees the drop - the creek seems to be carved into the earth, blocks of stone lining the sides of the creek as the water rushes along. The drop's only a few feet down, but it wouldn't be a pleasant one - if one of them hit their head in the creek, they could get swept away by the current and…

She doesn't want to think about what could happen because of that.

Jackson hops down and stretches his arms out to Aloie, sword on the top of the bank. "You need any help?"

"Yeah, thanks." Aloie jumps down with the help of Jackson's hand, splashing in the shallows of the creek. It's not deep, but she can feel the incline leaning in towards the centre - it could be up to her waist there.

She doesn't care to find out. Not when she's fully clothed, at least.

They walk through the shallows, keeping their hands on the stones that line the bank to make sure that they don't go too deep into the creek. Jackson's body tenses when he hears splashing in front of them, and he raises a finger to warn Aloie to be silent.

She will.

They don't move - they wait as the water sloshes past their ankles and towards whoever is walking towards them. A moment passes, then another, and then a figure emerges from the mist and stumbles in their direction.

It's the girl from Eight, Aloie realizes with a shudder.

Jackson raises his sword as a warning, but Aloie grabs his arm. "No, wait. We don't know - I think she's good, Jackson."

He looks back at her, raising an eyebrow, but does as she asks. The girl from Eight gives a sob of relief and takes another step forward. Now that she's closer, Aloie can see the tears that stain her pale cheeks - she's a mess. "Thank you - oh, thank you. My allies died in the bloodbath and I just ran here, but I got lost and then the mist came and then… I was all alone. Can I join you?" she asks in a rush of words, her face hopeful even when covered with tears. "I can help you - I can run fast. I'll try. Please."

"Jackson! Aloie!" Emma and Callous splash towards them, waving their knives in the air. "You found the girl?" Emma asks, still holding her knife tightly. The girl from Eight shudders, and Aloie frowns at Emma until the two put their knives back in their packs. It won't do to scare the girl any more than she already is.

"Please - I won't hurt you. May I join you?" the girl asks, desperate now. Aloie looks up at Jackson, silently pleading for him to let her in. She wouldn't mind another tribute in the alliance, and she doesn't like the thought of letting this girl stay all alone - it's not _humane_. "P-please." She chokes on a small sob, falling silent.

"I..." Jackson sighs, mopping his brow with the long sleeve of his grey shirt. "You know what? Why not."

The girl from Eight is elated to hear it, and hugs Jackson - but Aloie sees the small frown on Emma's face as they turn to head back to the tree.

Maybe it's best to ignore it for now. One more person wouldn't be that bad, right?

Right.

 **.oOo.**

But Aeson would much rather keep it to himself.

 **.oOo.**

 **Aeson Humpford, 18  
District Two Male  
3 Kills**

He walks out of the bathroom, happy that the dull ache is gone once more. It'll return eventually, he knows that, but he just needs to make sure to relieve himself whenever he can.

As long as he can keep taking his medication, he'll be fine.

He pockets the small bottle of brightly coloured pills - after pleading and begging and bribing the token committee to let him bring it into the arena, he had been given it on the morning of the Games and told to keep it hidden whenever he could. If he was asked about it by Duchess and Tourmaline, he'd simply tell them that it was a sponsor gift - it wouldn't be too much of a stretch. He just doesn't _trust_ them right now - they outnumber him two-to-one, after all, and share the same home district. He wouldn't put it past them to exploit him if his secret ever slipped.

Yes, Aeson would much rather keep it to himself.

He finds the two other careers back at the cornucopia, yawning as they wait for him to join them. "Took you long enough!" calls Duchess with a wicked grin, and Aeson shrugs. For all they know, he just had to go - after all, that'll be the excuse he'll use throughout his time here.

He'll have to be sure to drink a lot of water in front of them. Maybe that'll help convince them.

"Now, we have to plan for when the mist rises, because I'm sure it will eventually," Tourmaline tells the two when Aeson sits down on a crate of food. "When it does, I say we don't even bother guarding the cornucopia - when we get the chance, we seize it. We can't let the other tributes get away from us, especially if we have to wait it out. I don't want to be part of the career pack who couldn't find anyone, you know?"

Aeson nods. "If we hide the essential stuff somewhere else in the mansion, I'm sure it'd be alright to let any person who stumbles back into the mansion take what they can find - or we could destroy it," he says, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "After all, we wouldn't want them to get an edge on us, would we now? And we can use all of that salt in the cornucopia for _something_ , I'm sure - trails? Route markers?"

Duchess laughs, flicking an empty wrapper at Aeson. "We can burn it or break it - it doesn't matter. What does is that there's nothing left for them to find. Now, where should we start searching? There's that pesky large alliance, the girl from Eight, the girl from Five, the girl from Seven, and I saw the two from Three running across the lawn - I killed their friend, but wasn't fast enough for them." Duchess frowns, upset that he wasn't able to get rid of them as well, then shrugs it off.

"So we'll wait it out for now?" Tourmaline nods slowly, feeling for a spear to hold in her palms. "Sounds good."

"Alright, we have a plan!" Duchess grins at them both, standing up to stretch. "Now, you two wait here. I have to relieve myself."

The two patiently wait as Duchess vanishes into the corridor, quietly chatting about the other tributes. After a few minutes, they determine that it's the girl from Nine they have to keep an eye out for - she's the one who killed Enyo, after all. It's a pity that they don't know who killed Fraser, Aeson laments, but it's not that big of a deal. They'll find them eventually.

"Dinner is served, ladies!" Duchess walks back with a platter of food, grinning as he lowers the array of steaming meat and concoctions that the Capitol has dreamt up. "Smells heavenly, doesn't it?"

"How'd you get that?" Tourmaline asks between bites of a large roll, looking curiously over at her ally. "Find anyone?"

"No, I just gave the Capitol what they want to see," Duchess replies with a saccharine smile. Aeson mulls it over, but shrugs and goes back to eating. He doesn't care _what_ Duchess did, just that he got this.

That's good enough for him right now.

 **.oOo.**

Maybe, just maybe, she can fight her way back home.

 **.oOo.**

 **Magnolia Rosa-Tran, 18  
District Seven Female  
0 Kills**

She's still alive.

Still alive! What a lovely thought, Lee thinks as she presses her aching back into the cool face of the cliff above her. She's glad that she's still here, still able to fight, still able to prove that she can get back home with her baby.

Twelve cannons had gone off sometime earlier today, but she's found it hard to keep track of the time after the mist came. Lee had planned to climb the mountain - slowly, due to her aching back and the precious load of her pack and unborn baby - but the mist forced her to reconsider, making it too difficult to properly see where she's going. She can barely see ten feet in front of her in this mist - it would be a miracle if she could find her way up the cliff with these conditions.

She's not going to hope for a miracle. She'd rather stay rooted to the ground.

That's where she's safe.

Splaying her legs out in front of her, Lee opens the pack and looks inside. It's a valuable load - a bottle of water which appears to be half-full when she shakes it experimentally, a few packets of dried food that will get her through the next couple of days, a box of matches, a rope, and an axe-head to match the one that she holds in her right hand. She'll fare well with the contents of the pack - it's more than enough to keep her happy and comfortable for up to a week if she plays her cards right.

Maybe, just maybe, she can fight her way back home.

But now's not the time to dwell on that. She'll have to find a place to shelter for the night, she realizes as the mist continues to float around her, and stands up while keeping a steady hand on the cliff. She'll try to feel her way around the mountain until she finds something, anything, to use as shelter - she won't be picky. She can't afford to be, not here.

She might be hearing things. But if someone asked her, Lee'd say that she's heard whispers out in this mist - something darker than what the arena should be, something larger. She's staying close to the cliff.

Her hair begins to fall in her eyes as she walks, a result of keeping her face pointed towards the ground to look for any unwelcome rocks or roots that could trip her. She stops for a moment, pausing to tie the long, dark mess into a tidy bun. A few knots later, and it's finished - she uses a bit of the rope to tie it together. Lee's happy to see that some of the rope is in smaller, useable sections - it's nice to have something to keep her hair out of her face. It's so much tidier.

She walks for a long while, - or a few minutes, she can't tell - looking for a place where she can sit down and rest. When her hand slips from the cliff and into a crevice, she pauses - it might just be what she's looking for. Looking inside, she discovers a narrow cranny that she can squeeze herself into and have room to sit - the perfect hiding spot in this mist.

It's not so bad to be here, she thinks as she stretches in the larger part of this little nook. Sure, she'll have to fight for her life, but she knows how to use an axe - unless it's a career in her way, she could very well stand her ground.

She could make it through this.

She could save her baby.

She could go _home_.

 **If you want to know who's where/with who, leave a review/pm me asking for a rundown on the arena and I shall gladly give it to you all. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **Read, review, have a great day. I'll see you soon with another chapter, which will bring us back to some people we haven't heard from yet... I'm excited! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	28. Arena II: Prey

She wouldn't have it any other way.

 **.oOo.**

 **Colleen Tosse, 17  
District Five Female  
0 Kills**

She yawns when she wakes up, looking blearily around the lakeshore to see if anyone's here with her. They aren't - and neither is the mist that once shrouded the arena.

She's not surprised. Yesterday morning, the mist had done the same - disappearing early in the morning, and then re-appearing around noon. It's an obvious sign to the tributes that this is the time that they have to stay hidden, and Colleen had planned to wake up earlier today to position herself in a less visible area of sand before the mist disappeared. She had stayed up too late last night, though, and the plan soon disappeared out of her mind.

A pity, really. Now that it's day three, she wants to start developing some good habits here.

"What could be happening today?" she murmurs herself, looking down at the dark, smooth queen piece in her hand. When her grandma had come to the goodbye rooms, she had given the piece to Colleen - to remind her of the game that she's playing. She knows that she can't let anyone know what she does back at home, where her allegiances lie, that she even has an inkling of a thought to fight against the Capitol.

As far as she knows, the rest of the Capitol believes that she's just a normal girl, a simple girl, a girl who's supposed to die quietly in the Hunger Games and not be thought of again.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

But she knows what she is - her past that, _hopefully,_ no one knows about is just begging to be found out, and she's sure that someone has suspicions about her. Maybe it's paranoia speaking, but she'll have to make it seem like she's loyal to the Capitol - or else she's going to be risking the wrath of the gamemakers.

She'll start with moving her camp.

Once she peers around the small shore of the beach that she decided to sleep on last night - a bad decision, considering that her scalp is now covered with sand and her back is sore beyond belief - and is satisfied that no one else has shown up, she stands up to grab the small pack next to her sleeping spot. It's not filled with much - a water bottle, some iodine to purify the water in the lake, matches, and a pot - but her knife is on the other side of her body, and she still has the sponsor gift.

Yes, she has what she needs to start playing the game.

Pocketing the sponsor gift, she shrugs the pack over her shoulders and begins to walk along the side of the lake. For now, she'd like a quiet place to rest - now that it's the third day and the careers haven't found anyone to kill yet, she's not risking being too close to them when the mist can't protect her. She'll begin her journey to the far side of the arena today. It'll only take half an hour to get there, and the perimeter of the small lake can't be more than a kilometre or so, but she doesn't mind - it's distance between her and everyone else.

It's security. And in the Hunger Games, security is everything. Especially when she's playing the part of the prey.

She'll get to a safer place today.

 **.oOo.**

Then she coughs, and begins to feel miserable yet again.

 **.oOo.**

 **Desdemona Steen, 15  
District Eight Female  
0 Kills**

"Do you think any of the careers will find us today?" Emma asks the boy from Six - Jackson, Mona remembers with a yawn - while folding her arms over her chest. "I think we should get into the woods or find somewhere safer to stay in - we can't stay at the creek and pretend that we're alright. Sooner or later, they'll find us - and then we'll be sorry."

"We could cross the creek and head into the patch of trees once the mist is gone," Mona offers with a cough. The others look over at her, interested in what she has to say, and Mona blushes. She does like being the centre of attention, but she's never gotten used to it. "I think that we should get over there, especially when they think we'll go to the closer forest. We'll subvert their expectations, and they might not want to deal with the gully in the mist. If we memorize a path to get there and lie low until the mist comes back, it'll be easy to find a place to hide. Right?"

"Sounds like a plan!" Jackson smiles over at Mona, and Aloie gives her arm a squeeze. Mona grins back, happy to be contributing - it's nice to feel part of this alliance, especially since she knows that she's still new to their group.

Then she coughs, and begins to feel miserable yet again.

Is she starting to get sick? She honestly can't tell - she has breathing issues so often that she can't distinguish a normal cough from a wet cough that signals that her lung issues are flaring once more. But she's had a headache throughout the morning, and it feels like she can't think properly - it's so much worse than what it was in the Capitol.

Then again, maybe it's just her beginning to sleep outside for the first time. Maybe she's allergic to something, maybe it's a reaction to not having pollution filling her lungs, or something that wouldn't mean that she'll become useless soon. She heard things outside last night - it rustled in the mist, coming so close that it sounded like it was about to touch her, and even in the darkness she saw something that seemed to be so dark she couldn't tell what it was. Now that it's day, she figures that it was a dream, but she doesn't know yet.

She'll wait and see.

"Well, should we get ready to move?" Callous asks, looking anxiously around the bottom of the creek bed. Last night they elected to sleep on the sides of the creek due to the fact that the mist disappeared during the morning - just in case they were caught off guard in the night, they'd have at least _some_ warning from the splashing that would inevitably follow the careers leaping into the creek. It had caused Mona to wake up with her right arm muddy and left arm soaked, but she doesn't mind too much - it's better than being dead. "We want to be ready, right?"

Jackson yawns, looking up at the clear sky above their heads. "Yeah, let's scout it out. We have to be _careful_ \- we don't know where anyone else is, and I don't want to get one of us killed. Stay low, girls, alright?"

Mona is annoyed by the tone he uses, but doesn't bother to speak up. After all, he's keeping them safe from harm. He's making sure that they won't be the ones to die in this arena.

Right?

 **.oOo.**

This is their chance.

 **.oOo.**

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
District Six Male  
1 Kill**

They wait until the mist starts to come back to begin their dangerous move to the forest beyond the creek, nervous that an eager career will find them before they have a chance to make a break for it. But no careers come through the creek as they wait through the morning hours, and they hear nothing from the arena itself. It's still - too still, Jackson thinks. Everything's on edge, just waiting for something, _someone_ to make a move.

And now, against his every instinct, he'll be the one making that first move.

"Here, everyone take a pack - if we get separated, we'll have all of this for ourselves, right?" Aloie says, handing out the bags. She's been protective over the five sacks of cloth, evenly dividing the supplies and calculating numbers in that round little head of hers to make sure that no one goes without, but it'll pay off in the end. He's glad that he scouted her out for the group - her skills are coming in handy here.

"Alright. Callous, you're the last to head out. If the careers come, you yell - run wherever you can." Emma takes a pack and looks over at the boy from Ten, who's sitting on the side of the bank while fiddling with a small, water-worn stone. "Don't think of coming after us, okay? We don't want to kill all of us because one panics. I'd do the same, you know."

Callous sighs, nodding with that world-weary face of his. "I won't kill you. I'll do my best, I promise." Jackson feels sorry for the guy - after all, Emma's prodded him into becoming the sacrificial lamb for the rest of the pack in case they're discovered, but Jackson can't find the words to tell her off. After all, Callous will be fine - it's not like the careers will find them when they're so close to moving through the thick mist. They won't even be able to _see_ him, and he'll hear them long before they do him.

He'll be fine. Jackson certainly hopes so, at least.

Mona coughs haggardly, interrupting the tense gaze between Jackson and the others, and they all look up. The sky's no longer visible, and he can barely see beyond Aloie at the edge of the group - it _has_ to be time to move. This is their chance.

"Alright, I'll go first," he whispers to the others, and slips into the creek. His shoes fill up with the rushing water of the creek and he groans at the thought of walking in soggy shoes for the rest of the day, but he complains no more - it's the only way to the other side. Further he goes in, up to his waist, and suddenly he's on the other side.

He's halfway there.

Now comes the tricky part. He walks slowly to the right, looking for the chipped stone that they marked as the place where they'll walk from to the forest, and nearly slips past it before his mind registers that this is where he has to stop. He breathes a sigh of relief, grips the edges of the stones, and vaults himself up the bank - now, he's finally on the other side.

He calls for the next to come his way, then crawls through the grass. He's found that it's easier to keep in a straight line when crawling, anyhow, and he makes it to the edge of the forest more quickly than he thinks that he will. When he reaches the tall pine that they chose this morning as the place to meet again, he grins. The purple-brown bark's scratchy to the touch, but it feels so _right_ \- he's made it, he's free, he's safe!

Aloie comes next, panting as she runs to the pine, then Emma with the bag of weapons, and then Mona, giving a wet cough when she reaches the tree. They grasp each other's hands in affirmation and sit down to wait for their ally - it might take a while, but they're sure he'll get there eventually. He will, right?

But as the seconds turn to minutes, then hours, all Jackson can think of is the fact that they've all made Callous their sacrificial lamb.

And he hasn't escaped his hunters yet.

 **.oOo.**

Now, all that remains is to catch a tribute, and they've just found one.

 **.oOo.**

 **Duchess Curoscate, 16  
District One Male  
1 Kill**

He's trembling with excitement now, that's how ready he is to find the alliance and start hacking away at their numbers.

They've waited too long to find a tribute, any tribute, to lose these ones now. Yesterday, they had spent their time without the mist looking through the forest and had found nothing, too jittery about being lost in the mist to properly search. Today, they've decided not to make that mistake - Aeson's left a long, long trail of salt behind them in the grass - a part of the mansion's supplies - and they've searched the grounds of the mansion thoroughly. Now, all that remains is to catch a tribute, and they've just found one.

When they had heard the sounds of muttering tributes, Tourmaline had almost cursed in surprise. But they had quieted down enough to listen to their talk and their splashing across whatever creek lies in front of them to realize that they were moving - and before they knew it, there was only one of them left.

And now, it's just him, Aeson, and Tourmaline waiting until the moment is right to catch the last one left.

Aeson and Tourmaline have already promised Duchess the next kill. He claimed it after he had killed the least in the bloodbath - a dragged out fight with the pair from Three and the boy from Twelve had wasted most of his time, and he never got the chance to surprise another tribute. But this is his _chance_ \- if he does it right, he'll be able to impress the sponsors. Who knows what they might get if the kill is flashy enough?

"Alright, get ready to jump down and grab him before he can get moving," Tourmaline mumbles to him by his side. Neither of them can see where the last boy is, but they can hear him muttering - something about waiting for the careers to find him. Poor boy, how little he knows about what's about to happen. "We don't want to lose him in the mist."

"Of course." Duchess waits one dreadfully long moment, hoping against hope that the boy doesn't decide to move, then leaps - it's his chance.

It's his time.

He lands nimbly on the balls of his feet in the water, knowing that the sound of splashing will alert the boy to his presence. But Duchess needn't have worried - the boy has been sitting by the side of the bank and only now scrambles to his feet, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head. Duchess gives him the biggest, fiercest grin that he can muster in the moment, then leaps towards the boy from Ten. "Hello, darling."

The boy yells aloud and tries to dodge Duchess, stumbling further into the creek. But Duchess isn't letting him get away that easily - bracing himself, he leaps at the boy and sends them splashing into the water. They surface quickly, both spitting out water, and Duchess pushes the boy's head under - he's stronger than the outlier, easily overpowering him until the boy goes limp.

Tourmaline and Aeson join him as Duchess brings the boy back up for air, dragging him by his armpits onto the shore. "What are you going to do with him?" Tourmaline asks, a critical gaze examining the boy's prone frame. "He's not dead yet, you know."

Duchess smiles, drawing out his knife. He's been waiting for a moment like this. "I think… I think it's time to show the sponsors that we're playing this game for real."

He slaps the boy until he awakens, then starts this new game of cutting and teasing, poking and prodding, drawing out every last bit of blood he can - with the help of his allies, of course.

After a while, he can barely hear the screams.

 **.oOo.**

Her only job here is to get one person out - herself.

 **.oOo.**

 **Emma von Hapsburg, 18  
District Eight Female  
2 Kills**

She can't help but wince in sympathy when they hear the cannon.

"Do - do you think that's him?" Aloie whispers from her position in the tree above Emma, the wind slowly rocking them back and forth. "It's been so long - I thought maybe he got away. He could have, right?"

"I think that was him," Emma replies quietly. They share a brief moment of silence out of respect for Callous then look below their feet, where Jackson and Mona are perched on low-hanging branches. "Did you two hear that?"

"Of course," Jackson whispers back. "Well - I guess we're at four now. That's how many, eleven tributes left?"

"Only eleven..." Emma's thoughts trail away into nothing, and she becomes quiet once more. She hadn't thought of what could have happened to him when she told Callous to stay behind - she hadn't thought of anything but getting Mona and Aloie to the forest. Is it on her that he's dead?

No, it isn't. He had every chance to argue against her and still he waited - who knows how long he dawdled at the creek before he was found, if he ever left? No, it's not because of Emma that he's dead.

She's not responsible for him. Her only job here is to get one person out - herself.

That's fine by her.

"Could you pass some of the food?" Aloie asks Emma after a while, pointing at the pack nestled between Emma's legs. "It's far past lunch, and I haven't had anything for a while."

Emma sighs and tosses up a pack of granola to the younger girl, who finishes it quickly and hands the wrapper to be put away in the sack. They've been trying to keep any evidence of them being here out of sight from other tributes - that includes any hints of their existence like wrappers. If the careers were able to find Callous, they'd be able to track them if they're careless.

That's why they're in the trees. Here, at least, they're less visible from the ground when nestled in the leaves that sprout out from every branch and hang over the rest of the forest. It's the perfect hiding spot for them all - if Jackson and Mona are found below, they'll run and distract the careers while Aloie and Emma head in the other direction. No matter what, they'll try to get one of them out.

There's a nagging voice in her head that tells her that they should look for a better place to wait, to find another place to sleep until morning, but Emma ignores it. She's not going to draw attention to herself when they still have each other, not when she's already a target of the careers and the one they'll betray if anything goes wrong. Right now she needs to calm down and make herself seem less aggressive to the group - yeah, that'll help.

She doesn't want to make anyone here angry. She doesn't want to lose access to these supplies, to help such as Aloie's healing skills and Jackson's fighting prowess…

She doesn't want to lose this small sense of friendship that she's found with them. Not yet. Not when they have so much time left here.

She'll stay quiet for now.

 **.oOo.**

And what's more, food would give them the strength and courage to find water - they need to catch a bird.

 **.oOo.**

 **Antimony Sinebad, 15  
District Three Male  
0 Kills**

"Keep to your side!" he whispers as loudly as he can to Electra, whose legs are sprawled out as she tries to find a more comfortable position to lie in. "Let me have _some_ space, please!"

"I can be comfortable too!" protests Electra, who keeps her legs firmly planted on the ground. "Move if you need to."

Antimony huffs and moves over, burrowing himself deeper into the throng of scratchy bushes. He's hated every moment of sitting and waiting for something to happen here, hoping against hope that they'll get a sponsor gift while knowing that it won't happen. Why would it? They're doing nothing here, just lying and waiting for the end to come unless something forces them to move.

Eventually, they'll have to - the gamemakers will see to that.

He's not sure if he wants to keep working with Electra, though.

"Who do you think died?" Electra asks after another few quiet moments, interrupting Antimony's rambling thoughts on how the careers could find them in the forest. "Not a career - girl from Seven? With the baby."

"I don't think so." Antimony shrugs, still annoyed with Electra. "Why would it? She's probably huddled somewhere like we are, and wouldn't be found in the mist. The cannon was in the mist - I bet someone fell off of the mountain or something. Maybe it was the girl from Five."

"She's too smart to die like that," Electra replies with a definitive tone. "She won't be gone for a while. We might even see her soon, we might. Maybe."

"Eh," Antimony huffs. Electra must think that she's too smart for him, what with her half-shrug whenever she tells him something. It's like she doesn't take him seriously - or maybe it's something else, but he doesn't care any more. Right now, he doesn't _like_ it. He wants her to stop, be quiet, be _normal_.

He wishes that they didn't drink all of the water yesterday - oh, that was a foolish move on their parts. He could use some right now.

A few birds fly through the mist and above their heads, tweeting a cheerful song as they soar above what must be the top of the trees. He only sees them for a second, but it's something that he takes note of - birds mean that there are other animals in here, and other animals mean that they can hunt for food. They can eat! And what's more, food would give them the strength and courage to find water - they need to catch a bird.

When he tells her of his plan, Electra thinks differently. "How would we catch one?" she asks him after he finishes excitedly ranting, her large, nut brown eyes filled with confusion. "Do we have rope, something, anything? We need supplies to catch birds - knives? We need water first, right?"

"That's not the important part, what matters is that we _can_ ," Antimony replies. "And you know that we have nothing - the water bottles are empty and we didn't grab anything else. We'd have to wait for a sponsor gift or something if we're going to catch one - but we need to commit to it. Okay?"

"But there are easier things to eat!" Electra protests, gesturing at the bushes. "There are berries, edible plants - I can forage right now if you want me to forage right now."

"I want protein, not just some berries to starve me to death," he mutters. Then, in a louder tone, he looks up and replies again to Electra. "We can get berries, but we need more sustenance."

"Then we wait until we need it. I'm going to sleep - I need some more energy." Electra closes her eyes, and starts to try to fall back to sleep. But Antimony can't sleep - his temper feels frayed, raw, ready to snap if he doesn't find something to distract him.

Oh, he wishes Hex was still here. It would be so much easier to deal with this if they had someone else to talk to.

No, he'll have to bear it himself. No matter how long it takes.

Even if he wants to strangle his ally to death right now.

 **Y'all asked for the rundown, you'll get it right here. Ask, and you shall receive.**

 **The arena is roughly the size of a circle, with a diameter of about a mile or less - in the bottom left corner, we have the mansion with its cornucopia and treasure trove of bedrooms, etc. Around the mansion are its ground, well maintained lawn and such. in the upper left corner, we have Lee's mountain and Antimony's and Electra's forest. There's a lake that bridges the two forests together, and a creek that runs between the mansion's grounds and the forest the large alliance is in. I hope that helps!**

 **Careers: Duchess, Tourmaline, Aeson  
Threes: Electra, Antimony  
Big Group: Jackson, Mona, Emma, Aloie  
Loners: Lee, Colleen  
**

 **And, of course...**

 **12th: Callous Lecket, District Ten Male; Killed by Duchess Curoscate. Created by cornellfann.  
**

Callous was a potential victor for me as I was writing the reapings - he was a good, solid guy who didn't know his own worth and definitely had a chance of learning and maturing through his time in the arena. I did like his personality and character a lot, and planned for him to be a loner before stumbling into the larger alliance - obviously, that didn't happen when I realized he would be dragged in by Ceres and such. He faded into the background next to larger, brighter personalities, and I don't think he got to have the impact he deserved - it was a matter of time before he was found by the careers. I hope that I did him justice if you're still here, cornellfann, and hopefully everyone enjoyed Callous for what he was worth.

 **Our first official death outside of the bloodbath! Gear up, we're in for many more during our course through the arena - are y'all ready?**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	29. Arena III: Midnight

If she wins, she might have that chance.

 **.oOo.**

 **Magnolia Rosa-Tran, 18  
District Seven Female  
0 Kills**

She's tired of waiting for someone to come kill her.

Someone died yesterday, she knows that. She saw the face of the boy from Ten in the sky last night - someone killed him, yet they couldn't get to the rest of his allies - how many of them are there left now? Four? - and now there are only ten other tributes in this arena with her. There are only ten people left between herself and her baby and winning the Hunger Games.

What would happen if she wins? Lee hasn't thought much about that as she's slept throughout the past few days, but she hopes she can do _something_ \- it would be lovely if she could convince someone to not let pregnant women be reaped for the Hunger Games. She had privately protested the choice whenever she had the chance - to her mentors, the escort, the gamemakers during her private session - but no one felt secure enough to publicly protest along with her.  
If she wins, she might have that chance.

"And what shall we do today?" she murmurs to her unborn child, fingering her canary-yellow pack of goods. "Should we move, or remain in this little nook? I don't know what we do want to do - I suppose we'll wait it out, but perhaps it's best if we find a new place to sit. Perhaps the careers will start hunting, even though the mist is back - but no one knows for sure, do they?"

She hasn't decided what she truly wants to do yet - she'd rather just sit here and wait the day out, making a proper choice of what to do when the food runs out - which will be in the next day, considering that there's only a few packs left. She doesn't want to harm her baby or find another tribute - not yet, when she still has all of the others running around. This isn't the biggest of arenas - she's not going to get a chance to find a hiding spot as convenient as this one is for quite some time. And if she moves when the careers are hunting, even if she walks in the mist…

No, she doesn't want to risk that yet.

Not when she has so much to lose.

She'll have to start practicing again with her axe soon. She knows how to use it, but back at home she practiced using it every day - starting as a simple party trick, it evolved into a bit of a hobby for Lee. When she had found out that she was pregnant, the plan to keep learning how to throw axes to impress others at small parties that she and her friends held whenever they could had been thrown out of the window. Now, though, she needs the skill more than ever. She knows that she's still rusty, and being comfortable with the axe here will help her in so many ways.

She can feel confident when she finally sees someone else here, for one thing.

Lee yawns, leaning her back into the rock. Her body heat's warmed up the dry face of the cliff enough for it to feel comfortable to the touch - she's lucky that it hasn't rained. If she was soaked here, she'd be more than ready to move - but as it is, she's alright here.

She can be content where she is. For now.

But tomorrow? She'll move.

 **.oOo.**

There's nothing like this feeling.

 **.oOo.**

 **Aloie Church, 12  
District Eleven Female  
0 Kills**

She's tired of the alliance waiting for someone to come chase them.

Her fourth day in here, and she feels like they're almost doing _too_ well. Is something supposed to happen soon? Is she supposed to wait until gamemakers send mutts after them, or burn the forest down, or push them out of the trees that they've been hiding in for the past day? She expects _something_ to happen soon, but she isn't sure - what entertained the Capitol enough to let them have this downtime? Why are they allowed to get away with it?

Oh well, at least she gets to relax for a little bit longer for now. It's nice to know that she's safe, even if it's just for a few moments.

It's nice to have time to breathe.

"Hey, Aloie," Emma mutters up to her from her position on a lower branch that hangs over the boys below, "Do you want to trade positions? I think it'd be good to get a bit of time to stretch."

"Sure!" she replies cheerily, chirping in excitement like a bird that's just found a worm. She scrambles down the trunk - even if she hasn't worked in the orchards, she still knows how to climb a tree - and perches herself on the thick branch that Emma's been sitting on. "Alright, do what you want up there - watch out for the little branch that pokes out, if you're not careful it'll tear your shirt."

"Thanks for the tip," Emma drawls. Aloie giggles, then grins. She looks up at Emma, winks, then lets go of the branch. "Wait - Aloie? Aloie!"

Falling through the air is far more relaxing than she thought it would be, Aloie muses as she hurtles towards the ground. It's only for a second, but it feels like a thousand years - she's never found a feeling like falling headfirst. There's nothing like this feeling.

Her heart races when she grabs the branch below her, digging her palms into the thick bark and swinging around with the force of grabbing the branch. She yelps when the bark cuts through the soft skin on her hands, wincing at the thought that she'll have to bandage it up for the next few days, but then she's finished swinging around the branch and is merely hanging from it.

She's made it.

Lifting a leg - muttering under her breath about the fact that her arms are barely strong enough to do that as she does so - she hooks a knee around the branch and hauls herself up. "Did you see?" she giggles when she gets back onto the branch, her heart trying to worm its way out of her chest as she looks back up at Emma. "Didn't think I'd make it, did you?"

She doesn't mention the fact that she's only tried that once before - and failed, for that matter.

"Oh - my - never do that again," gasps Emma. When Aloie looks more closely at the older girl, she can see that her face is as pale as a ghost. Or the bark of an birch tree, smudges of grey and dirt adding hints of colour to her otherwise white complexion.

"I won't," Aloie calls back up. Below her, Mona and Jackson are looking up in surprise - they didn't expect her to do _that_ , either. "Trust me, my hands are messed up enough as they can get already."

Emma sighs, looking wistfully at the tree's trunk. "I always wanted to be a gymnast, you know - I could have been one. I practiced somersaults, cartwheels, splits, everything you could think of behind my home. But my mom caught me trying to walk along the roof of the house and put an end to _that_ \- no, she and my dad would have rather made me sit still and look pretty."

"Oh." She's not sure why, but something about that makes Aloie look away with a somber face.

It's hard to know that no one can get what they wanted at first. She'd rather not know the messy bits of other's lives. She'd rather have the parts that she can patch up.

Those are the easy parts.

 **.oOo.**

She wants to be a bit more _honourable_.

 **.oOo.**

 **Tourmaline de Metz, 18  
District One Female  
2 Kills**

It's good that they got that kill yesterday - otherwise, she'd be worried that the sponsors would start to lose interest.

She hadn't really enjoyed it, sure, but it was good to kill the boy from Ten. Duchess had done the brunt of the gory things - if she didn't know how well he played for the cameras, she'd think that he enjoyed that. No, it wasn't something to relish in - it was like flaying a dying horse, or picking off the legs of some poor insect. There's nothing pretty about torturing someone.

But the cake that they were gifted afterwards almost made up for it - Tourmaline's glad that she thought to at least pretend to smile as she did it. She's not going to let the Capitolites think that she's not invested in this. She's not going to let anyone kill her off because they think that her heart isn't in the game.

She's going to play, and she's going to win. She wants a kill that's more impressive than drawn-out, that's all.

She wants to be a bit more _honourable_.

She looks over at Duchess, who is fiddling with his fingers on the other side of the room as he rests in an overstuffed easy chair. Her position on the large, comfy bed is just as soft - the pillows help quite a lot. "You doing okay?"

"I don't know… kind of getting bored in here. I'd like to find someone else soon - we can't coast off of the bloodbath forever, you know?" Duchess yawns, covering his mouth with his now-manicured nails. "But that's enough from me. I see that it's Aeson's turn to sleep at the cornucopia?"

"Yep, he gets guard duty tonight." Tourmaline grimaces at the thought - after worrying throughout the first few nights, they had come to an agreement that one would sleep at the cornucopia while the others were able to rest in the rooms of the mansion. It's her turn tomorrow, and she's not looking forward to staying up through the night.

At least no one's bothered to try to get back into the mansion yet. They're too afraid of the careers to try otherwise.

Her fingers dig into the pillow, and she flashes a saccharine smile to Duchess. "Sleep well. I suppose tomorrow we'll try the mountain, right?"

"Of course. Sleep well - don't get too worried, alright? I'm sure you'll be fine if we find someone else - _if_." With that parting shot, Duchess leaves the room. He knows just how to shake her, doesn't he?

But he'd be a fool to think that it'll scare her for long. She's worked too hard to think that an outlier can take her just like that - no one outlier will get Tourmaline. She'll stay strong. She won't let Duchess try to shake her confidence.

After all, she always has Aeson to side with.

She wouldn't let Duchess know it, but sometimes she wonders what it would have been like if he had died in the bloodbath and it was just herself and Aeson. Would it have been easier? Would it have been more comfortable?

One thing's for certain, she thinks as she pulls the covers of the bed over her body - oh, they're so _soft_! - and closes her eyes, without Duchess she'd feel a bit safer in this mansion.

Just a bit.

 **.oOo.**

But he's not going to be the first to die. He won't let them.

 **.oOo.**

 **Aeson Humpford, 18  
District Two Male  
3 Kills**

He's getting tired.

Glancing around the mansion, it's obvious that no tributes have decided to pay a visit today. None of them will - no, not until they're hungry and desperate enough to try and do something here. They'll simply sit around and wait until the careers come to find _them_ \- not the other way around.

He's honestly surprised that there hasn't been an arena event yet - he thought that the Capitol would be getting bored by now. Maybe there's something else that's catching their eye, something keeping them entertained.

Hopefully, the careers are able to take that attention back before it all goes south for the alliance.

He yawns, smacking his lips as he eases himself down onto a crate. It's started to feel pointless for him to be here - there's too few of the careers to properly do anything, and he barely trusts Duchess enough as it is. He thought he was frightened by Duchess in the Capitol, with that glance that told the world that Duchess knew all that he wanted to know, but in the arena…

There's no career other than Duchess who would play the Games like he is this year.

And it's not just Duchess - Enyo was more ferocious than him, Tourmaline smarter, and she's still here for that matter. It's like he's the weakest link, the dumb muscle for them to push around. He knows how the Games work. He's supposed to die off when they've killed a few more outliers and figure that they can deal with the others easily, letting the Ones properly fight each other.

But he's not going to be the first to die. He won't let them.

Biting his lip, he looks at the rest of the supplies that he's supposed to guard. There's the half-empty bag of salt that they lug around in the morning when they go hunting, just in case they get caught outside in the mist, the piles of food, the weapons that they aren't using and haven't found a use for…

The food's what's useful to him.

He opens a bag of fluffy buns, taking out the small sponsor gift that he had received earlier in the day. He had been by himself when he had received it, and it was obviously meant to be for him alone - the bed, obviously a gesture to the fact that it's fill with sleeping medicine, painted on the side of the bottle couldn't make it any more obvious. Now, he just needs to taint a small bag of food, feed it to the others when he's ready, and let his gift do the rest.

He takes a syringe, fills it with the sleeping potion, and readies several buns. He fills them all without a second thought, shaking his head all the while. This is inherently wrong, he _understands_ that, but he's too deep in now to give up right now. He'd rather drug them off, giving him time to overwhelm them and slowly become the dominant one in the alliance, than have to fight them when it's too late. He'd rather get rid of them this way.

He won't have to kill them all themselves. It's… it's…

It's easier this way for him, he thinks.

Aeson hurls the bottle out of a side window, listening for the clink of the glass bottle when it hits the ground far away from the mansion. It's safely away from the others - the mist has paid off more than he thought it might. They won't find it.

Now all he has to do is stash his dirty little secret away in the food, seal it up, and wait until the moment's right. When they realize what he's done, it'll be too late. They won't be able to stop him.

He's not going to let the others stop him from winning. They aren't Twos, after all - they wouldn't understand.

He's not sure if he quite understands what he's done himself, but he's not dwelling on it. Aeson's going to win these Games.

He's not getting outclassed by One this year.

 **.oOo.**

After all, no one's found them in this forest yet, right?

 **.oOo.**

 **Electra Mancuso, 16  
District Three Female  
0 Kills**

"Do we have any more water?" Antimony asks again, sighing as he does so. Electra shakes her head, miserably staring at their two empty water bottles - they both know the answer, but can't help but ask the same question once more. It's been too long without water. She's starting to get a bad headache, one that clings to both sides of her brain and digs in with long, sharp thorns or claws or whatever weapons the world gives headaches. Her tongue is dry, so dry, and the only thing that's kept them even a bit comfortable is the mist in the air. They suck all of the moisture off of the leaves, whenever they get the chance.

All of the leaves are dry right now.

Antimony starts to moan again, muttering about how they're going to waste away here without hunting, but Electra ignores him. The stars are out tonight - they're quite pretty, shimmering in place up in the sky above their heads.

She doesn't see the stars often in Three. She's glad that she gets to here.

"Imagine if we had a fire or something - no, we're stuck because we don't want to wander through the mist and kill ourselves or something," Antimony hisses after a few more moments of furious silence. "What's to be afraid of, even? I don't know why we started here - we should have gone to the lake. I bet it would have been safer, easier, _something_. It's not like anyone's died other than the boy from Ten, right? It's safe out here. It's easy. We should do something."

Electra yawns, shrugging. "I don't - you decide. Doesn't matter." She curls back up in place, closing her eyes and drifting into a dreamless sleep. She's sure that Antimony is angry at her for not moving, but right now she wants to conserve energy. It's nice to sit here. It's nice to feel safe.

After all, no one's found them in this forest yet, right?

A harsh beeping wakes her up, rather like a fire alarm as the noise drifts closer and closer. Yawning widely, Electra doesn't realize what it means until it bumps into her face.

 _It's a sponsor gift._

Gasping, she opens it quickly with a few quick twists of her wrist. Inside is the most beautiful thing that she's ever seen - a small, metal-grey canister of water, the contents sloshing inside as she shakes it. "Oh, my -"

"What? What is i- a sponsor gift?" Antimony's excited as well, pushing through the bushes so he can get a good glimpse of it as well. "Water! Can I have some? I _need_ some, Electra. Please, me first. I need it."

Electra shoves him away, greedily lapping it up. He just doesn't get it - she got it first, she'll drink first. It's not like he has to worry. It's not like she's going to drink it all, right? "Wait!"

Antimony shoves her back, dark circles around his eyes from lack of sleep darkening even more. "Give - it!" he grunts, trying to wrench it out of her grip. "Please, now!"

"No!" She kicks at him to get her ally off of her sponsor gift, sending him scrambling back into the bushes. But then he returns, and she gasps when she sees a wicked glint of silver clenched in his right palm. "Wait!"

"I'm done waiting," Antimony mutters, then pounces.

 **.oOo.**

Oh, he'll make her pay.

 **.oOo.**

 **Antimony Sinebad, 15  
District Three Male  
0 Kills**

He's never hated anyone more than he does Electra in the moment that she kicks him away, sending a burning pain up his right thigh as he scrambles back into the bushes. Who does she think she is, trying to keep him from getting to drink water? Oh, she thinks that she's so smart, his mind grumbles. Well, she better wait -

He can be smart as well. And he knows how to be smarter - he knows how to put the odds in his favour.

He just needs one thing.

He rummages through the pack, cursing to himself until he finds the knife, then rushes back to Electra in a rush of anger. "I'm done waiting!" he shouts, thrusting his knife in her direction in a wild attempt to scare her. He doesn't _mean_ to cut her, but the knife slips out of his control and lodges itself in her right arm.

Electra screams, a flock of birds that must be nesting in the upper reaches of the pine trees scream back, and she and Antimony grab the knife at the same time.

"I - I'm sorry -" he tries to say when he grabs the hilt of the knife, but Electra butts him away with her head. Antimony's knocked back, and he feels his head lash backwards and hit a rock. The impact seems to spark dozens of fireworks throughout his head, climaxing in a large, throbbing sense of pain.

Oh, he'll make her pay.

His hands close on a fistful of dirt and he throws it in Electra's face, jumping back up as he does so. The girl chokes on the dust, and he makes a grab for the bottle of the water - so close, so close, so close!

But then she slices through his right bicep with the knife, screaming at him to get away, and he forgets about the water.

"Stop it! Stop!" he screams at her, shoving the older girl away. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone, Electra!"

Electra doesn't listen, ripping the knife out his body so that she can try to strike again. Antimony doesn't let her - he tackles her to the ground, pulling her hair and screaming back at her. She must have hit her head as well, because in her shock she lets go of the knife just long enough for Antimony to snatch it up and make one wild, instinctive rush to protect himself forevermore from this waste of an ally.

The boom of a cannon stops him from stabbing her through the neck a third time, and he looks up. Who died? What happened? Wha-

 _Oh_.

"I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" he yells at her, still trying to stop himself from stabbing again. He throws away the knife, sending it flying through the bushes and into the wild of the forest, and begins to shake her body. "Wake up! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to, Electra! I'm sorry!"

When she doesn't move, he collapses in a wet, filthy, shuddering heap. Without looking, he knows that the water's gone - in their struggle, one of them knocked it onto the ground to let the rest of the water seep into the ground. It was pointless, all of it. All of it. He shouldn't have killed her. He shouldn't have let his thirst overwhelm him. He should have kept control.

Now he's all alone.

 **Another day, another chapter!**

 **11th: Electra Mancuso, District Three Female; Killed by Antimony Sinebad. Created by Sparky She-Demon.**

Electra was a dear - I enjoyed her in the alliance that she formed, her quirks, and even if her backstory was a tad cliche I still liked having it for what it was worth - the reason cliches are so prominent, after all, is because they're solid, well-formed foundations that can be remade over and over again. It doesn't make it any less tiresome for some, but I really did enjoy writing her and getting to show a few of the things that made her more herself. She was initially a bloodbath pick, but I vetoed that sometime while writing the Capitol - I wasn't prepared to let her go. But in this alliance, things were brewing up for quite some time and this battle was when they finally snapped. Thank you, Sparky She-Demon, for a girl who tried her best even if she couldn't always express that she was.

 **And we're into the top ten! We've got seven more chapters in the arena from here on out - I'm excited to share them all with you, and you'll hopefully get a new one every day or two - depending on my writing speed (I have two more arena chapters to write and five have been finished, so let's hope!). I'll see you soon with another chapter!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	30. Arena IV: Movement

If it continues like that, they won't have any time to search in the day left at all.

 **.oOo.**

 **Duchess Coruscate, 16  
District One Male  
2 Kills**

It's strange to think that someone other than them is finding it just as easy to murder.

The careers have all gathered near the window of the mansion to wait for the familiar strains of the anthem, hoping to see who's the next to die. Now there are only seven tributes left out there for them to kill - seven to split between themselves unless they decide to implode before they find them all.

And one - who knows, maybe more - is willing to kill.

Duchess giggles when the anthem begins, taking a bite of a deliciously plump sticky bun from the cornucopia as he waits for the face to be displayed in the sky. "Who'll it be? I'm going to guess that we've gotten rid of the girl from Eleven - I don't see how she's still here."

"Isn't she part of that alliance?" Aeson asks, frowning slightly as he does so. For a moment, his chiselled features contort into a confused expression that can't be described as anything other than dopey, and Duchess hides a snicker. "They wouldn't break apart now, would they?"

"Who knows? Alliances outside of ours aren't meant to stay together for long, I'm sure. I don't see anyone doing it as well as the careers - do you see them?" Duchess smirks at the thought, then shrugs it off. It doesn't matter right now - right now, they're focused on the mountain. They know that's not where the large alliance is, but they don't have the time to search there - ever since the second day, the mist disappears for less and less time.

If it continues like that, they won't have any time to search in the day left at all. At least, not if they want to actually see where they're going.

He'd prefer not to be ambushed by the girl from Five or boy from Six because he's stumbling around in the mist for the better part of the day.

"Oh, there we go!" Tourmaline points up at the sky, where an image of the girl from Three flickers brightly before vanishing from sight. "Girl from Three… was she alone?"

"No, she was with the boy from Three. I don't know what happened to _her_ \- maybe someone found her." Duchess shrugs again, knowing that it doesn't matter. What _does_ matter is that they know who's left - the boy from Three, the girl from Five, the boy from Six, and the girls from Seven, Eight, Nine, and Eleven.

Only a few left to go.

"I wonder what happened to her… I'm sure the boy from Three didn't do anything, he's a scrawny little thing. But scrawny things can still kill with weapons… I guess we'll never know." Aeson yawns, turning to head back to the bedrooms. "Any other ideas?"

"I'm betting she found a mutt or something - why wouldn't there be one out there?" Tourmaline asks the others, not expecting a proper answer. The arena has been confusing so far, but at least it's _comfortable_ \- they don't have to go and push it to the limit every moment, every day.

Duchess likes it a bit better this way.  
"Night," he yawns to the others, then walks through the narrow hallway to the bedrooms. He's looking forward to a night of sleep - today's stretched on for too long.

But when he gets to his own bedroom, he pauses, closes the door, then locks all of the doors and windows. Only when all of the locks are turned, all of the mesh screens are firmly in place, and all of the latches are turned, he feels like he's safe in here.

Just in case.

 **.oOo.**

She'll never know until it works - or not, she supposes.

 **.oOo.**

 **Colleen Tosse, 18  
District Five Female  
0 Kills**

She needs to get this lake working for her, or she's not going to be able to stay away from the mansion. She needs this food. She needs energy. She wants that extra burst of adrenaline just in case someone tries to spring something on her, that last reserve of energy, and she's eaten all of her food supplies - and by the fifth day, at that. If only she had a chance to get to where the careers were - she'd rob them blind, taking whatever she could carry and running from them in the night. But she can't do that. It's too risky.

Instead, she's turned to fishing.

She gets up from the stump to check her lines again, tugging on them to see if anything's attached. They're annoyingly light, as they have been for the past few days - nothing's decided to take a bite out of the soggy crackers that she attached to the rope and hook that she cast out into the lake.

Maybe if she uses something more appealing, though…

Colleen shakes her head in amusement when she realizes how foolish she's been, dropping to her knees so she can search through the ground for worms as bait. How could she have forgotten - all fishermen used worms as bait in the movies that played during the afternoon when she was a little kid with nothing to do. She might have known that if she lived in somewhere more rural, like Four, but she grew up in one of the urban capitals of Panem. It's a wonder that she's somehow managed to make a fishing line in the first place.

Then again, she might be totally doing it wrong. She'll never know until it works - or not, she supposes.

Her fingers get sore from scratching through the wet dirt and past rocks, pebbles, and the like, but she's finally rewarded with the sight of a fat, juicy worm. For a second, Colleen's tempted to down the worm right there and then, but controls herself when she looks back at the lines.

She'd rather have fish than this wriggling thing.

She doesn't haul in the lines until she finds three more worms, corralling the first three in a circle of rocks until she finds a fourth to spear onto the hook of the fishing lines. When she's ready, she starts pulling in the lines - the second is especially tough, and she almost loses her hook on some stubborn weeds in the lake - until she muscles it up to the sandy shore of the tiny beach. Putting the hooks on the logs that the ropes serving as fishing lines have been tied to, she pushes two worms on both hook, then throws them back into the water as far as she can. No wonder that she hadn't caught anything with the crackers - it seems that they disintegrated in the water of the lake.

Ripples that spread through the lake disappear after a while, and Colleen settles back down to watch and wait. It takes a while, but she springs to life when she sees one of the lines trembling in the water. Barely daring to breathe, she gently coaxes it back to shore - the last she needs it to lose the fish because she pulled the line too roughly - and is rewarded with a fat, juicy fish that flops around on the sand until she puts it out of its misery with a sharp rock.

She can do this. She can do this. She can survive out here for as long as she needs to.

As long as the mist lets her stay.

 **.oOo.**

She's all alone now.

 **.oOo.**

 **Desdemona Steen, 15  
District Eight Female  
0 Kills**

They're finally out of the trees, and she can't be happier about it.

She looks around the circle of allies that has formed in the messy, half-built shelter that they're trying to assemble - Jackson, Emma, and Aloie. All of them look as tired as she feels, and she coughs again just thinking about having to start lifting the logs that Jackson and Emma have been working to drag to the shelter to make the shelter once more.

Mona thinks that she's coming down with a fever.

It started a few days ago, with small coughs punctuating every day as she walked with the alliance and sat in the tree. It must be the mist, the wet atmosphere of the arena just burrowing its way into her lungs and only making her sicker and sicker. She hopes that the fever doesn't get too bad - she can feel herself getting weaker by the hour, she has a throbbing headache forming, and she knows that she wouldn't be popular enough to get a sponsor gift from the Capitolites.

She's all alone now.

Emma looks over at her as Mona gets up, then sinks back to the ground. "You okay, Mona?" she asks, looking concerned. Mona flushes - she doesn't want to worry everyone else, although her headache has only been getting worse.

"I'm doing really badly - oh, I just feel really sick. Maybe I caught something in the Capitol, or the arena did something to me. Oh, why does this have to happen now?" she moans, a stubborn tear worming its way down her cheek to splash onto the ground. It's like the world is mocking her, she reflects bitterly as she looks around at the most. It just _won't_ dry up. She's stuck here until the mist goes away tomorrow morning.

"Oh, you should rest more often, then," Aloie says. She leans over to Mona and checks her temperature with a raised palm. "Yeah, you're not doing well. Surprised I didn't notice - I guess you're just naturally really pale. Let me go get some things from the packs - I can help bring down that temperature. Cheer up, if all goes well you'll feel much better in a few moments," she reassures Mona. "Give me a few moments, alright?"

Mona nods weakly, closing her eyes and waiting for Aloie to return. "Are you finished yet?" she ventures after a minute or so, looking in the direction that Aloie has disappeared in. She doesn't respond, and Jackson and Emma merely give her a pitying glance before turning back to talk about some more pressing issue. They don't care enough to help.

After an eternity of waiting, Aloie emerges from the mist with a handful of foreign leaves and a pack strung around her small, stolid shoulders. "Here's a few things I found growing near our shelter!" she says cheerfully, popping a few leaves between her teeth and chewing them while continuing to speak. "Let me just get these ready for you."

Mona's lip curls in disgust, but she makes no protest as Aloie pops the gooey mess out of her mouth and mixes it with some water that she plops over the small fire they have going. "What will it do?"

"Oh, it's a tea of sorts - it'll help heal you up. Dandelion leaves and all that, but I like it better when it's crushed. Makes it a bit easier to go down," Aloie replies absently, handing Mona a bottle of water. "Now, you relax."

Mona can't argue with that.

So she doesn't, and sinks into sleep as the afternoon continues.

 **.oOo.**

It's good to have them here.

 **.oOo.**

 **Emma von Hapsburg, 17  
District Nine Female  
2 Kills**

The forest is quiet today - unearthly quiet. Where have the birds that usually chirped in the trees gone? Where have the other animals gone? If only the mist made a sound - at least it'd be _comforting_. She'd like a bit more noise in here.

Noise drowns out the anxieties and worries than run nonstop in her mind.

"Where do we want to put the next log?" Jackson asks, yawning widely as he does so. "We should put it on top of the first three, unless you want to lean it against one of the trees - I don't know. I just hope that there's as many fallen logs in this forest as we need to make the shelter properly."

"I guess we work on stacking to keep on working with the log shelter idea," Emma replies with a confused frown. "I don't know what to think either - I feel like we've hit a wall or something. I wish we could work with something else, but maybe we just need to stick it out with the current plan."

"No use complicating it, right?" Jackson laughs, nodding along with Emma. "Alright, I'll keep looking. If you go, remember your knife - use the arrows and all that. I don't want one of us getting lost in here. We have to keep each other together for now, right?"

"Right," Emma murmurs. She turns to grab the knife that she's stuck into the tree that they've hung the packs off of, wrenching it out of the trunk and into her hand. They've practiced it too many times to get it wrong - every time they leave the clearing that they've made their camp after they determined that sitting in a tree wasn't going to work for them, especially since no one's shown up in this part of the woods, they take a knife and carve an arrow pointing back to camp with every few trees that they pass. So far, it's worked for her - she's almost lost her sense of directions a few times, but the arrows haven't lied to her yet. It's good to have them here.

She goes south of the camp this time, looking critically around the forest for a new log to use as part of their set-up. They've tried to keep them at an even length, but they'll have to cut through some of the logs sooner or later to make them the same size as the smaller logs - it's hard to stack them together and bind them with the thick rope when they're different lengths.

Oh well, they'll cross that bridge when they come to it.

She continues to walk through the woods, looking around for more logs. Most of the fallen trees - unfortunately, there aren't as many as she'd like to see - are either too long or too small to put to use, and then have no axe to chop down trees for use in their cabin shelter. But she keeps walking forward, faithfully stopping to carve arrows in the trees every ten paces. She's not going to get lost in here. They've tried going further than their small boundary in the clearing, but it's hard to - if one of them goes too far, they get a strange headache and need to head back as soon as they can. It happened to Jackson yesterday - she's not going to let it happen to her.

But then, to her surprise, she drops her knife to the ground and pauses as she glances around the forest.

It must be the scream, so shrill, so fearful, that's gotten her on edge. It seeps into her bones, and she can't help but shiver.

She doesn't want to find out where it's coming from.

 **.oOo.**

He'll stay out of the way.

 **.oOo.**

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
District Six Male  
1 Kill**

He pauses his search for more logs for the shelter when he hears the scream.

"Emma?" he dares to call out into the oblivion, hoping that whoever's screamed - if it isn't one of his allies - won't hear him unless they're friendly. "Are you there, Emma? It's Jackson - I'm still here. Who screamed? Hello?"

No one replies.

A dark, dreadful feeling starts to gnaw away at his conscience, and he hurriedly turns back to head to the clearing. It's hard to move faster than a quick walk without getting lost in this forest, and he has to slow down every few paces to check the bark of the trees and make sure that he's heading in the right direction. Maybe it's the fact that Six doesn't have forests, but it seems so hard to keep track of which way is which in this mist.

The arrows don't lie, though. He's glad he's thought of them. They'll keep him safe.

They'll lead him back.

He gets back to the clearing much more slowly than he would have preferred to, but he gets there eventually. And when he does, he's greeted with the terrified expressions of Aloie and Mona when they see him approach them.

Behind them, he sees that they're being kept at guard by the axe-point of the girl from Seven.

"Hey, stay away," the girl calls when he takes a step closer. "I know how to use this, you know." Jackson remembers her oddly high training score, and steps back. He doesn't want to get the girls killed. Not here. Not now. "Thank you, thank you, I just want a few things and I'll be on my way. I'm not trying to hurt you, honest. I just need more supplies. I'm sorry."

"I believe you," he tells the girl, glancing nervously down at her swollen stomach. How many months along is she in her pregnancy, eight months? He doesn't want to touch her - no, he doesn't want to know what the Capitol would do if he kills this pregnant woman. It's too risky right now. He has to let her go.

After all, he doesn't know what she can do with the axe that she so easily holds.

"I want a pack - some water, too," says the girl. She points her axe at the tree with the packs, and Aloie looks over at it as well. "Could you pack me some things? I'd do it myself, but -" she gestures helplessly at Jackson, and he nods. He'll stay out of the way.

Aloie rushes over to the tree, rummaging through the packs until she's collected an impressive assortment of items fort he girl. "Here you are - some medicine supplies and a few handy packs of food - I didn't give you a knife, but I'm sure you can find something else to suffice," she tells the girl.

"Thank you!" the girl seems satisfied with the pack, taking it in her free hand and stepping away from a shivering Mona. "I'll be on my way now - good luck, by the way."

Then she turns around - and is face to face with Emma. Jackson sees that Emma doesn't look happy, and he struggles not to tremble.

He doesn't want to know what happens next.

 **.oOo.**

The girl pauses, processing Lee's argument until her eyes widen in understanding. " _Oh_."

 **.oOo.**

 **Magnolia Rosa-Tran  
District Seven Female  
0 Kills**

She halts in her tracks when she sees the girl from Nine appear out of nowhere, raising her knife in the air as she advances towards her. "Why do you have our pack?" the girl asks, brandishing her knife menacingly.

"I made a deal with your allies," Lee replies as coolly as she can in these circumstances. It takes all of her willpower not to run - she has to keep calm. She can't lose everything she's gained just because she's frightened of this girl from Nine. "Now, let me go, and I'll be out of your way. Simple enough, right?"

"Why shouldn't I kill you, right here and now?" the girl asks. Her lip curls into a sneer, and she steps closer. "I bet I can use this faster than you can that axe - it must be hard to throw it when you only have one hand to use. Maybe you should drop the pack and go. It'd be easier for you to avoid my knife."

"And what, you're going to kill me?" Lee scoffs, gesturing to her baby bump. It's a desperate, desperate gamble, but it could be just enough to frighten the girl into letting her go. It's worth a shot. "What will the Capitol think of you slaying an expectant mother in her tracks? You don't know what could happen. No one does, I suppose - not even myself. But you have about half a chance of it working - either you live, or you don't."

The girl pauses, processing Lee's argument until her eyes widen in understanding. " _Oh_."

"Well, I'll be on my way. Thank you for your time, good luck, and have a lovely day - or not. I don't mind either way," Lee continues. She keeps talking for the sake of distracting the girl, all the while keeping an eye on the girl's hand. Every second, her hand unclenches even more. "I'm sure you won't miss these supplies, considering that there's only four of you - and stay out of the way of the careers. They came close to me yesterday, but I was lucky - the mist is kind to us outliers. That's why I moved, though - so you guys stay safe to. Especially with _this_ to deal with."

She throws a savage strike towards the girl from Nine's arm, her axe ripping into the flesh and leaving a long, jagged cut. As the girl bends over her bleeding arm, howling in pain, Lee runs - well, what's as close to running as she can manage at this point in her pregnancy. Only when she's sure that she's out of reach of the alliance she stops, panting madly while trying to get a bearing on her surroundings.

Once she's figured out where she is, she heads in a perpendicular direction from where she came from. She's not letting them catch up to her to get revenge for a flesh wound, of all things. A flesh wound!

She was kind enough to them, Lee reflects when she pauses to rest near a grove of trees - rather close to the creek that she crossed this morning. She could have killed one of the young ones, and they still wouldn't have touched her out of fright. She holds all of the cards when it comes to her pregnancy, it just depends on how bold she's willing to get with the other tributes.

With these ones, she's willing to play whatever game she can with them. But she's not going to go so far as to kill them - no, she doesn't want to risk them retaliating. She doesn't know what the Capitol thinks of her dying, and it wouldn't do for her to go too far and end up getting killed for it.

Yes, she's playing the game as best she can for now. And later in the Games, when she's hungry and tired and needs more food?

Maybe the next time she comes across an outlier, she'll be a bit more aggressive.

 **Another day, another chapter!**

 **What do you all think of this one? We're starting to see some more tensions form between the outliers, some interesting hints at what could be, and I promise that soon everything is going far, far downhill. Get ready - you'll need to be if you want to make it through the next few chapters :P**

 **Hopefully, I'll get another chapter out for y'all tomorrow, but we'll see. For now, enjoy, read, have a good time, share your thoughts if you want, etc etc! Have a lovely day :D**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	31. Arena V: Dread

It's a perfect day for hunting.

 **.oOo.**

 **Aeson Humpford, 18  
District Two Male  
3 Kills**

Over the past few days, Aeson's started to notice that the mist… well… _thickens_ in certain areas.

It's not that subtle - whenever they head closer to the forest, the mist suddenly seems to be impenetrable, and they go back to the mansion with strange, dull headaches and the knowledge that they're not wanted there. But it's quite light on the lawn of the mansion's grounds, and the creek is easily maneuverable. At least, the creek _is_ \- until they step into the crunch of a leaf-covered meadow, and then it's back to mist that he can't even see his hand in. The gamemakers must want them to stay away from those areas, at least for now, and so far the careers have. They don't want to find out that their salt trails will conveniently disappear - or something worse - if they push ahead.

But today? Today, the places that the gamemakers lock off with the mist only have the faintest trails of water vapour that hang in the air - the forests are ready to be explored. It's a perfect day for hunting.

Even more perfect for him, considering that he coerced the others into finishing off the tainted sticky buns this morning - their _eighth_ morning in the arena. He feels safe drugging the other now. They've been working together for a week - both of them have no reason to mistrust him, and the sleeping medicine will kick in tonight. And then? Then, he'll finish them off.

"Duchess, you okay?" he asks as he looks back to see his fellow career walking behind him, Duchess balancing the leather rope that makes up his whip with his poised fingers. "You look nervous - I'm sure that there aren't many in this area, and there's always the other forest. And the mountain - do you think anyone made it to the top of the mountain yet, or have they stayed close to the lake?."

Duchess laughs in his face, shaking off the idea of him feeling nervous. "No, just keying myself up for the fight - it looks like the gamemakers _are_ going to let us go into the forest. I'm sure someone will be here, and Tourmaline will find them before us at any rate." He jumps into the creek, splashing through the shallows before wading in the quick, tugging current that reaches up to his hips before they're both on the other side. "I'm sure Tourmaline will be finished with her hunt soon - she'll chase them towards us, and that's when the fun begins again." Duchess yawns, but makes no comment - he simply continues onwards.

"Yep," replies Aeson. There's nothing much else to say - it's as simple as finishing off whoever Tourmaline can find in the forest ahead of them. She knows the risks - she'll be lost in the arena, vulnerable to any threats that lurk there if the mist comes back at the wrong time - but she's also a _career_. She can handle herself.

She'll find someone before the mist comes back - and if she doesn't, Aeson suspects that the gamemakers will guide them to her. They'd likely want a bit more action now that it's the sixth day in the arena.

It must be getting tiresome for the Capitolites to watch. They need to put on their show, and soon - or else, or else, or else…

He doesn't know what would happen if they fail to find anyone - unlikely, considering the fact that the arena can't be more than a kilometre from side to side. But if they fail at this, they won't live to tell the tale.

When they reach the forest, Aeson steps inside of the foliage, says a little prayer that he heard his roommate mutter to himself one night before another series of cuts was announced at the Academy, then plunges into his hunt.

He'll give it his all here. No matter what happens.

 **.oOo.**

How long will it take for that number to fall to one, though?

 **.oOo.**

 **Colleen Tosse, 18  
District Five Female  
0 Kills**

She likes the taste of fish - yes, that's a good thing. It's good to like what she has. After all, she doesn't have much else to eat.

The skies being all too empty of more sponsor gifts have proven that she's stuck with this.

She's not sure if they've figured out anything about her - about what she'd say about the Capitol if she got the chance - but she won't provoke the Capitol. Yet it seems that she's either not interesting enough, or something's stopping the sponsor gifts from coming as quickly as she'd like them to - perhaps the rates are higher this year. Sponsor gifts are supposed to cost a fortune, after all. She can't expect a month of someone's salary to be thrown away so she can have another pack of crackers, or something just as stupid. She's not going to get the same chance.

She'll have to look for other ways to fight her opponents.

Ten, ten, ten left in the arena. The word has a small, hollow ring to it - only ten people are left in the arena to fight it out, yet that doesn't describe what it really is. It's really _nine_ that matters here - nine people left to fight until everyone's gone and she can go home.

How long will it take for that number to fall to one, though?

Colleen hasn't seen anyone since the bloodbath, and she's not sure if she wants to. It's nice to sit with her fishing lines and pretend that she's alone here - it's easier, and she's not been attacked by any ruthless mutts or something that would be worthy of her concern. She's been safe here _because_ she hasn't been discovered by anyone else - and it would be good to keep it that way.

Yet…

She takes her knife with her, leaving her supplies hidden in a rotted-out log and her fishing lines in the water. Just a quick scout of the area, just in case there's something else to be discovered. Just in case. She walks and walks and walks until her heart leaps out of her chest, because one of her feet has almost slipped into thin air.

Quite strangely, there's a cliff at the edge of the forest that she's just stumbled onto. It takes a moment for her to realize what it is - it means that she can't go any further than this, judging that the mist is swirling even more thickly down below. It's not meant to be discovered by the tributes - it's the borders of this already small arena. And something is below… something that swirls around the jagged facets of rock that clings to the cliff and seems to howl into her very soul… something dark, something dangerous…

She turns away, her heart beating quicker than a drum and her head practically splitting with pain. She's not playing with fate here. As she turns away, her fear fades. But she's not going back. Not when she doesn't know what that thing does.

As she turns to head back to her camp, satisfied with this little burst of bravery, - even if she's fleeing now - she hears a sound that doesn't belong.

Colleen freezes.

Then she hides.

It's a low, muttering tone that's scared her, she observes from the safety of thick thistle bushes - the thorns scratch, but it's worth not being seen by whoever might be out there - Someone's worried about something, and they're letting it be known to the world. Then she sees who it is: the boy from Three, who stumbles through the woods and past her bush. He looks hollow and gaunt as he walks, his eyes rolling around in his head as he looks around for _something_. She ducks lower into the bush, hoping that his gaze overlooks her - and it does. Soon, she hears a frustrated scream when he discovers the cliff that she nearly fell down, and peers through the leaves of the bush to see him storming back.

For a moment, she realizes that this is her chance to kill him. That's something that the Capitol would like, right? They love the blood of the Games, all of the glitz and glamour of killing and the fights that fill every screen in the nation. Maybe she should take this opportunity, net herself a kill, and finally get the chance that she's been waiting for.

But something holds her back.

Before she knows it, he's out of sight, and she curses to herself. Maybe it's for the best, but she's wasted this opportunity - next time, she needs to play it smarter. What if he had supplies, something, anything that she could use? She can't be scared here - this is a fight for her life, not her time to give others second chances.

Turmeric would want her to fight, she realizes, and that hardens the resolve that is slowly forming in her heart.

Next time she finds someone, she'll take that opportunity.

But first? She's going to move camp.

 **.oOo.**

But then he hears the lapping of water, and his mind springs to life.

 **.oOo.**

 **Antimony Sinebad, 15  
District Three Male  
1 Kill**

He's furious with himself.

He scoops up a stone from the forest floor and hurls it over the cliff, screaming at it as it flies into the mist and away from view - into that strange little dark spot that circles around at the bottom. Why isn't the forest bigger? Why is there nowhere to get away from this place, why is the mountain impossible to climb, and why can't he find _water_ , for crying out loud?

He's so thirsty, it takes everything in him to not burst into tears. He doesn't even trust that he'd be able to do it - he doesn't know if he has enough moisture in his tear ducts to properly form tears. He's starting to get a bad headache, too - it must be the lack of water. He just can't _find_ any.

"Why does this have to _happen_?" he yells at the cliff, tempted to throw himself off of it. But he doesn't - he's too unwilling to give up to commit to ending this game. And if he survived the drop - oh, he wouldn't want to survive the drop. It's not worth even thinking about. It's such a _waste_.

He'll keep walking, just for a bit longer. Just to see if he can find that creek that he's certain he saw at the beginning of the Games.

Why is it so hard to make himself walk now? He can't focus on the world around him now - all he feels is the _throb throb throb_ that is his head now. Oh, if only he could slow down - he could, actually. He could just sink to his knees and fall into the bushes and wait for the mist to come back and murmur its thoughts until he can fall asleep…

But then he hears the lapping of water, and his mind springs to life - and he realizes that the headache has faded.

Water! He tumbles through thorny bushes, not minding the scratches, and falls into the lake with a scream of delight. He forces his head under, just enjoying the feeling of this blessed _cool_ , then cups his hands to fill them with lake water. Many, many handfuls of water later, his thirst is sated, and he finally feels human again. It's good to drink. It's good to have this. It's so…

He can't think of a word to describe it, but it's _something_ good. And for now, that satisfies him.

It takes a while for him to properly get up and look around the lake for signs of other tributes, but he does so eventually. Wading around in the shallows doesn't reveal any other tributes or signs of life to him - no, not until he trips over a strange wire and falls face-first into the mud under his feet.

When he gets back up, he realizes that it's a fishing line that's tripped him up, and he can feel the blood vessels rushing away from his face. _There's someone close._

He half-runs, half-stumbles away from the fishing line and towards another, safer part of the lake. No, he's not going to get caught by someone because he waited too long for them to find them. He's not getting caught, not after Electra. He fought too hard, did too much to let himself die now.

There's a current that laps at his feet when he stops. Looking ahead, peering through the rapidly thinning mist, he can see the mouth of what must be the creek he spotted days ago. Without thinking, he stumbles towards it - maybe he'll find a place to sit down there.

When he gets into the walls of stone, he finds a small nook to sit down in and closes his eyes. He's safe here. He can feel it.

His instincts aren't often wrong.

 **.oOo.**

At least it's starting to come to life.

 **.oOo.**

 **Desdemona Steen, 15  
District Eight Female  
0 Kills**

Oh, she only feels sicker today.

It's been a strange forty-eight hours. From the trees to building this cabin - she can't remember who decided that it was a good idea, but she wishes that she had the willpower to tell them that it's not a good one - to the sickness that only gets worse, she feels like she's been losing more and more control with every minute. She doesn't have a chance with winning, not if she's going to be useless for the rest of the Games.

Mona would wish for some medicine right now, but she doesn't dare hope for that. Who would want to give it to someone as pathetic and useless as her, anyway?

"Are you doing a bit better now?" Aloie asks, appearing from the mist - it's so much lighter today, for some reason - and handing Mona a water bottle. "Drink up - it flushes your system and will do wonders for your mind. I flavoured it with some more dandelion plants and a few other herbs I managed to scrounge up in this forest, so it'll be helpful for your recovery. Oh, I hope that you feel better soon! You're going to, I promise. I won't let you waste away with me here. What would Cora have said about that? Me, her apprentice!" Aloie giggles, and Mona smiles weakly.

"Where - where are the others?" she asks, gesturing to the mist. Aloie shrugs, looking around the clearing for a sign of Jackson and Emma. They've been looking for so many logs - she doesn't like the idea, still, but there's no point in arguing - that they've barely had a time to stop by. They've just been working and working on their shelter.

At least it's starting to come to life.

"They're hoisting another log onto the forth wall, I think," Aloie replies after peering through the mist. "It's going to be as high as my shoulder soon! I do hope that a storm or something comes along - it'd be so nice for it to be useful like that. It deserves to, after all of their hard work. Don't you think so?"

"Yeah..." Mona replies weakly, pretending to go to sleep after Aloie busies herself with more organizing. She doesn't have the energy to speak now, and Aloie is too eager to talk for her own good. For a moment, Mona fitfully wishes that Aloie wasn't here, but then regrets the thought right away. Where would she be without her? What would have happened if she didn't have Aloie in the alliance?

She could be wasting away, all alone. She doesn't want to be alone.

Not after the bloodbath. Not after the first day of deep, shuddering sobs as she discovered that she couldn't find her way through the mist. Not after hearing the cannons, tears streaming down her face when she saw the faces of her allies in the sky.

It's not good to be all alone like that. She wouldn't wish on anyone, especially not herself. It was a good idea to join this alliance. She wouldn't regret it for the world.

It would be nice if Aloie would be just a _bit_ quieter as she organizes the supplies, though.

 **.oOo.**

She has the element of surprise.

 **.oOo.**

 **Tourmaline de Metz, 18  
District One Female  
2 Kills**

She's not going to give up on this hunt today, not here, not now, not when it all counts on _her_. She's going to make the others proud. She's going to prove that she's a good leader.

She's going to narrow the playing field today.

Oh, the possibilities! Tourmaline hops over a log and continues to run through the forest, taking care not to make much noise. "Thank you, instructors, for teaching us how to run silently," she mutters under her breath as she jogs quickly. "Don't know where - where I'd be without that - without that here."

She stops after a few more minutes of running, trying to get a bit more air into her lungs before she starts it all over again. Oh, what she'd do to have ran every day before classes instead of merely walking back home! But no, she was lazy - she didn't think of that. She didn't think of how it could have helped her, and focused on other things.

Then again, if she hadn't focused on fighting with groups and how to bond with her allies and how to run silently instead of quickly, she might not be here, would she?

She's grateful for her time at the Academy. She volunteered because she loved being there every minute she could, learning and growing and becoming someone that she didn't know that she could be. When she discovered that she had the chance to go to the Hunger Games, sometime in her third year, she took the plunge - the prize money would set up her father and mother with enough money to start running that store of theirs again. As for her? She'd settle for working with the kids again - they're the best part of the Academy, with their blessedly smart minds and their quick, eager cunning that comes to them so easily. She'd love to train.

But first, she has to get through this.

The forest is blessedly loud today, teeming with life. It's a good thing that it's so lively today - for some reason, she feels sleepy today, and it's only the animals around her that keep her mind sharp. She can see squirrels with long, bushy tails darting up trees and chittering at others on the ground, birds fluttering their wings as they make their way to the nests that they must build on top of the upper branches of the forest's trees, the quiet burble of the creek that now is far behind her…

And…

And laughter.

She wheels around, honing in on the sound of someone else in these woods with her. It's far to her left - someone's over there, someone - or someones - who's laughing right now. They have no idea that they've just spelled their own doom. They have no idea that she's heard that innocent burst of laughter.

She intends to keep it that way until she finds them.

Tourmaline listens to the sounds of the forest even more keenly as she gets closer to her unknown opponent. She doesn't want to alert him, but she knows that the forest knows - there's birds who are calling something quite loudly, as if they're letting the rest of the world know that she's here. But the others - yes, it's others, she can distinguish the different tones of voices that now discuss something in hurried tones - aren't aware of it - she can't hear any cries of alarm, worried footsteps, anything that would tip her off that one of them knows she's here.

She has the element of surprise.

 _Deep breaths, Tourmaline._

She thinks of what her parents must think of this, shakes her head, then runs out at the group with her sword that shimmers in the sunlight like the eye of a snake.

She's ready to fight them all.

 **.oOo.**

It would be simple to be a bird.

 **.oOo.**

 **Aloie Church, 12  
District Eleven Female  
0 Kills**

It's nice to have things to sort, supplies to busy herself with and organize again and again to make them more useful for the alliance. It makes Aloie feel like she's back home, back at the apothecary where she had hundreds of herbs and plenty of time to be useful. There was never a dull moment back there, yet there's something that feels so _dangerous_ about boredom. She wouldn't like to know what her mind would do if it had nothing to do.

She doesn't intend to find out any time soon.

She rummages through the supplies again just to make sure everything's as proper as it can be, then leans away when she's satisfied. Is she being too picky, too organized with it all? She knows that Mona thinks that she's being strange - the girl from Eight was muttering about how Aloie couldn't keep quiet with her supplies last night - but Jackson and Emma seem to be fine with it. Even if it's just because she's keeping out of their way as they figure out what the alliance is doing, she feels _useful_. It doesn't matter if they don't feel the same way.

Right now, it's _her_ opinion, her thoughts, her decisions that matter. It's a little terrifying to have so much control, especially after being taught so much by Cora about how to follow instructions and to listen to everyone else while she worked, but there's something about here that is just so, so free.

It's a strange feeling, being free.

"Are you alright?" she asks Mona after a moment more of checking the clearing, but the girl has fallen into a quiet sleep. Aloie giggles - she can't help it, Mona looks so _funny_ with her mouth open and snoring so loudly there. But after a moment of mirth, she silences herself and stands up to find Emma and Jackson. She should go see if they need any help from her.

Maybe she can tell them that she's organized their rations for the next week.

"Hey, I..." she begins when she reaches the two before trailing off into silence. They're both straining to lift a huge log on top of their previous efforts, lodging it into place with a furious grunt from Emma and a reddening face on Jackson's part. "Oh, I don't know how you guys lifted that."

"Huh - simple, Aloie," Emma pants as she leans against the makeshift wall for support. "We just have to use a little bit of elbow grease."

"A _little_?" Jackson raises an eyebrow, his face covered with dirt and sap from lifting pine logs, and they laugh for a few moments. Aloie shakes her head, amused by them both. She doesn't know where she'd be without them. "Now, I think it's alright if we just rest for bit - we've earned it, haven't we?"

Emma nods with a pant and a sigh, and they sink into silence for a few more moments. The birds are still loudly tweeting, proclaiming their little bits of news to one another up in the treetops as they fly around. They have such simple lives, Aloie thinks. It'd be nice to be a bird - she wouldn't have to worry about death like she does here. It would be simple to be a bird. It -

Her thoughts flutter away into nothing but cold, dreadful panic when she hears the first scream.

 **A new chapter, and one before an exciting crazy epic battle ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh**

 **What did you think? Thoughts on the mist/tributes/etc? Any ideas of what'll happen in this battle? Who will die? Who will survive?**

 **We're halfway through the arena! I hope you're all enjoying this as much as I am, and I'm excited to get to the next chapter. I'll see you then! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	32. Arena VI: Crimson

She can see that, even now.

 **.oOo.**

 **Desdemona Steen, 15  
District Eight Female  
0 Kills**

She screams when the girl comes running into camp, pushing at the ground as if it'll move her further away from this wraith that's emerged from the forest. The girl merely glances at Mona and leans down, a long, tapered sword in her hand. "Oh, you're here? You're not with that alliance, are you?"

Mona opens her mouth to scream, but then the girl's wrist moves and Mona's chest erupts in pain. Looking down, she sees the horrible truth - the girl's dug that dreadful sword into Mona's chest and pulled up, ripping past muscles, cartilage, and bone that now juts out of her muddied, grey outfit. "Oh - oh - oh!" she screams, taking deep, shuddering breaths. This is like nothing she's ever felt before. She's never felt like this.

She's never been this close to death before.

The girl looks over Mona once more, like she's a piece of fabric that's about to be trimmed in Eight's factories, then shrugs. And then she's off, presumably to find the others in Mona's alliance. Mona hopes that this horrid girl doesn't find them - she doesn't want her alliance members to die. Even if they aren't her friends - and they don't feel like that, far from it - they don't deserve to get killed like this.

She can see that, even now.

Mona's eyes are brimming in tears, and she coughs twice; the third brings up blood that drips down her chin and onto her neck. Oh, she doesn't want to die like this, not here, not now, not so… so… so suddenly. Back in Eight, she at least knew that she wouldn't live forever, but she knew there that it would be gradual - she could say her last goodbyes if one final fever took her, hug her parents, and regret the life that she lost.

Here, she only has minutes to do that.

"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry -" she coughs again, feeling the bright red liquid gushing out of her mouth and onto her body. What will she look like as a corpse? Will she forever be stained the same red that the career has left her in, or will she be stitched up? She hopes that she's a pretty corpse - at least she'd leave this world beautiful, instead of what she is right now. It's a silly hope, but it's one that she so desperately needs. She doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to die.

Not like this.

Fatigue overwhelms her, and Mona begins to close her eyes. In the distance, she can hear a scream - but it's a distant scream, as if it's too far away to matter to Mona anymore. No, the only screams that matter now are her own. It's only her, here. She's going to die, all alone.

How many tributes are left in the Hunger Games?

It's hard to feel the pain now - is it because she's lost so much blood? Perhaps her body is going into shock now, or maybe it's because she's dying even more quickly than she thought. Is she supposed to feel more or less pain now? Oh, she just wants to feel _something_ \- anything at all, even if it hurts. She wants to speak again. She wants to do anything once more. Anything.

Something inside of her slips away with that final thought, and then everything is gone.

 **.oOo.**

But the pile of packs next to the girl's body is much more telling - she seems to have allies.

And the careers are going after them.

 **.oOo.**

 **Colleen Tosse, 18  
District Five Female  
0 Kills**

As she's walking past the lake and to the other side of the arena, she hears a scream, then a cannon.

Colleen drops all of her supplies and freezes.

She's not sure what to do here - who just died? Who killed the person? What's happening out there? - but she knows that she probably doesn't want to be found by the other person. But she remembers the promise that she made to herself just minutes ago. How could she forget it?

So instead of doing the sensible thing and running as fast as she can back to her old camp, Colleen takes a deep breath and runs towards where she heard the scream come from.

Maybe it's what the Capitol would like to see.

She locates the source of the scream quickly. One of the things that were drilled into her as she practiced tasks that would prepare her for larger, more important missions back in Five was that she always needed to be aware of her surroundings. It's paid off here - instead of letting fear and adrenaline take over, she remembers the way the scream came from and jogs off in that direction. The fact that birds are bursting from the trees and flying away from the sound - why is the mist so _light_ over here? - helps as well.

The woods are thick here, and she's careful not to trip. She doesn't need an injury here, not when she's this close to the end of the game.

After all, there are only nine tributes left.

"Hello?" she whispers as she continues moving towards the sound, then shakes her head in embarrassment. Whoever was here is supposed to be dead now. They're not in any condition to reply - but their killer is. Oh, she's not doing herself any favours now. She just needs to be quiet, play it smart and safe until she finds -

The dead body suddenly appears at her feet, almost pitiful in its stance. The girl from Eight had been curled up on the ground when she was attacked, by some sort of blade - a sword? - that ripped through her chest and left her to die from blood loss. There was no surviving _that_ , Colleen knows, but it also tells her one other thing - a career killed this girl.

It's simple to piece it together. No one else in the arena seems to use a weapon like a sword, and it would make sense for a career, searching for tributes, to stumble upon the girl and go for the kill. If she had to guess, she'd say that it was the boy from Two. Who else would be drawn to a sword?

But the pile of packs next to the girl's body is much more telling - she seems to have allies.

And the careers are going after them.

She's quiet as she jogs from tree to tree, careful not to stumble into any fights. Ahead, she hears shouts and loud footsteps - whoever is ahead of her is running madly from an unknown assailant. The boy from Two must have them on the run. Is he alone? She can't tell, but she's sure that his allies are somewhere… unless…

When she catches a glimpse of the girl who's chasing what must be the remnants of that alliance that was so large in training, Colleen has a terrible idea. It's foolhardy, it's stupid, and it goes against everything she thought she'd ever do.

But if she plays her cards right and doesn't let her guard down… if she's strong enough to do what she needs to do… if she's luckier than she's ever been before, it just might work.

And as she speeds up, Colleen knows that she'll take that chance.

 **.oOo.**

Then the boy from One takes off, leaving Aeson in his wake.

 **.oOo.**

 **Aeson Humpford, 18  
District Two Male  
3 Kills**

He's jogging into the forest with Duchess when the burning starts.

He nearly trips over when he realizes that it's there - it's come so suddenly, and so strongly that he feels overwhelmed. Only sheer force of will and years learning to practice self-control back at the Academy - oh, he remembers one week when his instructors threw buckets of ice-cold water over their heads then forced them to climb one of the massive cliff faces outside of the school - keeps him upright, and he stumbles until he's regained balance.

Duchess looks back, breathing heavily as his face contorts with confusion. "You okay, Two?" he asks between pants, continuing to run all the while. "You heard the cannon - Tourmaline's doing fine. We'll get there eventually, and then we'll be down a few more. For Panem's sake, are you alright?"

Aeson grunts, all too aware that his face is reddening. He just wants to sit down, get some rest - oh, he can feel himself tiring, slowing down… oh, he needs to stop. But he can't. But he can't. Not now, when he has to help the others…

Or…

He shakes away the thought, continuing to run after Duchess. The mist is still blessedly low, letting them see where they're going, and he's able to keep up the pace as he dodges thin trees and hops through bushes.

Then, he feels his shoe catch on a branch that sends him tumbling into the ground. He's been running like a dog, panting with his mouth open to get a bit more air as he chases Duchess, so he gets an unpleasant mouthful of dirt as he faceplants into the forest's floor. Spitting out leaves, he struggles to get up, only barely registering the blood on his left leg until he looks down and _oh no oh no not now he does not want to deal with a sword injury now not now not -_

"Aeson? Oh - you stay put, we'll be fine. Get a bandage on that or something, that looks _messy_ ," Duchess calls back, and Aeson winces when he sees the hint of a smirk that plays on Duchess' lips as he says so. "But catch up as soon as you're able to move - I don't want you to miss out on all of the fun. Tourmaline wouldn't either."

Then the boy from One takes off, leaving Aeson in his wake. Aeson fumbles for the small pack that he had on his back, filled with bandages and water bottles in case something ever _did_ happen out in the arena, and rinses the wound clean - cutting away the soiled fabric from his pant leg - before bandaging it with a butterfly twist that he was taught years ago. He's always been particular about keeping wounds clean, especially with all of his siblings heading into medicine and warning him periodically about the dangers of contaminated wounds, and it pays off here.

When he's finished wrapping the wound, he stands up, feels the wound, then pauses. Does he _have_ to catch up to the others yet? He could wait here, take some of the pills for his infection, and give himself the rest that he needs. He needs it, he knows he does. But…

He sits down, reaches for the small bottle of pills that serves as his token, and pops the lid.

He's sure the others will be fine.

Even if he's drugged them.

 **.oOo.**

 **.oOo.**

 **Aloie Church, 12  
District Eleven Female  
0 Kills**

Aloie feels like she can't do anything but run and run and run until the girl from One catches up - oh, she knows that she'll be caught eventually. It's inevitable.

But the least that she can do is _try_.

It had started off so well - at least until they heard the cannon. She had found Jackson and Emma chatting next to what would soon become their shelter, and they had talked about what they had planned for it to become. It would have been such a lovely shelter, but then they had heard the cannon. The cannon ruined every dream they had in an instant - for they knew that they couldn't stay there when there was a career so close to the camp.

And now that they know that the girl from One isn't giving up on chasing them, they now know that they can't go back.

She'd try to slip into the trees, try to find a place to hide until the girl gives up and everything goes back to normal, but the bushes are relentless and the branches on the trees that she runs past are far too high for her to get a decent hold on. She's in it for the long run, it seems - and Jackson and Emma are far too fast for her to keep up with. She's not going to make it.

She's never been a running type of person. Even before she was apprenticed to Cora in the apothecary, she had been reluctant to play on the schoolyard and in the streets with the other kids in her neighbourhood - she feared, above all other things, being the one chosen to be it. It was horrible to be the slow one, good for nothing but chasing after kids who she couldn't catch. She was always the slowest on the playground, and she hid it by feigning disinterest. It _hurt_ to be mocked, to fail, so she avoided it instead.

Here, though, could be her last chase.

Aloie pushes her legs until her lungs burn, and then she stumbles to a halt. Ahead of her, Jackson's stopped as well - the boy from One has shown up as well, his whip in hand, and he lashes out at Jackson. Aloie winces - she knows what it's like to treat people who've been whipped by the overseer, and she can only imagine the pain of being whipped herself. Jackson doesn't deserve it.

Emma grabs Aloie's hand and tries to force her away, but the girl from One cuts them off. They're trapped now, all three of them, by these careers who are about to take their lives for the sake of the amusement of the Capitol. It's wrong, _so_ wrong, and Aloie almost bursts into tears when Emma darts away and up a tree. She's going to die all alone.

The girl from One advances upon Aloie, moving her sword so quickly that Aloie doesn't realize she's been stabbed until the pain begins. She looks down in surprise - the sword has cut through her stomach and up towards her ribs, likely ripping through several organs along the way. She tries to breath, but it's ragged and harsh - she's losing blood. She's losing so much blood. If she was her own patient, Aloie knows that she wouldn't be able to save herself. It's too much, too late, and she sinks to the ground knowing she's about to die.

But in one moment of clarity, she notices that the girl from One is now on the ground as well, with _Emma_ on top of her - the girl has been slammed to the ground from Emma leaping from the trees. Her alliance might have a chance. Even if Aloie doesn't.

In a moment Aloie's gone, but she dies with a smile.

 **.oOo.**

He can't wait to be able to get out of this arena.

 **.oOo.**

 **Duchess Coruscate, 16  
District One Male  
2 Kills**

He's not sure if he'll make it. At least, he's not sure if he'll make it before Tourmaline rips whoever she's found to shreds - he's heard one cannon already, and he can only hope that there's another tribute left for him to get his turn with.

He wants to add to his kill count.

Oh, how he longs to be in something _presentable_ right now! Duchess loves being in dresses, wigs, being in his full get-up. It's just right for him, especially when he's able to show it off to others. He feels powerful in that. But dresses and high heels aren't made for running, as unfortunate as that is, so he entered the arena drag-less. He didn't want to let anything slow him down, not even himself.

He's a patient person. He'll bide his time, bear this dirt, and wait until he can get out of here. And when he does that? He'll be dressed in anything that he wants.

He can't wait to be able to get out of this arena.

But duty calls, as always, and he begrudgingly runs in the direction that they had planned out last night - it's a good thing that they've scouted the movements of the other tributes in the past few days, or they'd have no idea of where anyone was. He doesn't care that Aeson's been left behind. He'd only slow himself and Tourmaline down, especially with the fact that he can't seem to keep out of the bathroom. What's with _his_ bladder?

When he hears a haggard shout, he knows that he's almost there. He stops, readjusts his whip in between his fingers, then prepares for the others to run towards him.

It's almost too easy.

The boy from Six is the first to get caught in Duchess' trap, shouting aloud in pain when Duchess lashes out with the barbed whip. It digs into the boy's skin and rakes at his clothing, leaving a bloody trail behind him. Duchess shakes his head, smirking all the while. "There's more where that came from."

The boy tries to push past Duchess and run, but Duchess is too fast for him. His whip keeps the boy at bay, long enough for his allies to run into him and get cornered by Tourmaline. "Where's Aeson?" Tourmaline shouts at Duchess as she tries to keep the girl from Eleven from darting into the trees, and Duchess shrugs. He's not in charge of their ally.

The girl from Nine is quick to run, scampering up a tree and perching herself in its upper branches. Tourmaline curses, yet ignores her in favour of making sure that the others don't run. And it's a good thing that they ignore her - the boy from Six tries to make a run for it in that instant, shoving Duchess before a knife buries itself in his shoulder. The boy screams, and Duchess shoves him back. He's not letting this fodder get away. Not now.

Tourmaline tackles the girl from Eleven, dragging her sword across the girl's small chest. It only takes one scream before the girl shudders, then is still - blood loss will do the rest. But then in an instant, Tourmaline is on the ground as well - the girl from Nine has leapt from the _tree,_ of all things, and now is beating at Tourmaline's fingers for her knife. Duchess moves forward to help her, but the boy from Six is too quick for him - Duchess is knocked into the trunk of a pine tree, then claws the boy from Six as the boy struggles for his whip. There's something that overwhelms his senses once more, something that tires Duchess all too quickly - it's like he's about to fall asleep. But he won't, he won't, he won't!

"Let… it… go!" shouts Duchess, then feels himself sagging to the ground - there's something dripping from his throat… oh, he's sinking to his knees until he feels himself spinning around and around while the mist thickens in an instant. It's so… so beautiful.

He thinks he hears a cannon in the distance, but it might be his mind playing tricks on him. He's not sure.

It's hard to be sure of anything now that he's dying.

 **.oOo.**

She can't let them die like that. Not now.

 **.oOo.**

 **Emma von Hapsburg, 17  
District Nine Female  
2 Kills**

She claws her way up the tree, not bothering to look back - all she has on her mind is to get up, up, up and away from the rest of the world. She doesn't want to die here. She doesn't want to die here.

But…

She looks back down, seeing the girl from One rip apart Aloie - little Aloie, who's been nothing but kind to Emma and has the sweetest laugh and can fly through the trees like a bird - and she pauses. Is she really going to abandon her allies here? Is she going to let them go just because she doesn't want to get caught up in this fight they'll surely die in?

She can't let them die like that. Not now.

Without thinking, she lets go of the tree - she's just like Aloie, flying through the air until she slams into the girl from One and hits the ground. It's a hard, hard landing - the breath is knocked out of Emma instantly, and she struggles to get back up to her feet. But then the girl from One yanks her down, and Emma claws back at her - pulling hair, scratching at her eyes, anything that she can do to make sure that she doesn't go out like this. She's not letting this girl get the last laugh.

One cannon goes off, and without looking Emma knows that it's Aloie. She yanks again at the girl from One, trying to push her into the ground further and further, but the girl is even stronger than Emma is. She's not going down without the fight of her life.

Then, another cannon goes off.

The girls both look up now, surprised - the boy from One is slumped against a tree, a streak of red spreading across his neck, and Jackson is backing away with a knife in his hand. Next to him is a girl… the girl from _Five_ , if Emma remembers correctly, who has a knife as well. Hers is clean. Jackson's isn't.

"What - what happened?" the girl from One stammers, and Emma is so shocked that she doesn't think to stop the girl from flipping around and pinning her to the ground. "How - how did Six -"

"Get away," the girl snarls at Jackson, and Jackson casts a terrified look over at Emma. She nods, and off he goes to hide in the forest. One of them is going to make it. Surprisingly, Emma's alright if it isn't her.

"Why are you here?" the girl from One asks, and Emma looks over. The girl from Five has a dangerous look in her eyes, one that's fit to kill, yet it softens as she gazes back. "Why did you help - help me?"

"I figured that it's best to join the winning team," replies the girl. Emma gazes over at the girl from Five, trying to understand why she's joining the _careers_ , of all people, and then she sees the stain of red that's on the girl's shirt and it all comes together in one flash of clarity. "Now, tie Nine up - she's not dying if I'm joining. You like prisoners as a career, right?"

Emma opens her mouth to protest, but a guarded look from the girl from Five silences her - the girl knows that Emma's figured it out. But the girl from One, thoroughly fooled and looking tired at that, nods as grabs Emma's arms to pull her up. "I - I suppose that - I guess Duchess wouldn't have minded..." the girl from One trails off, still holding Emma in front of her, and the girl from Five nods.

"We can use her, you know - trick others into coming out before we catch them," Emma's fellow outlier says quietly, and the career nods. "Trust me - it's best to keep _some_ people in the arena now that there's only seven of us left."

"I guess so… we should find Aeson. I - we will, _I've_ got the sword, I make the rules - he's a good guy. He'll understand..." the girl from One trails off. Emma suspects that she's in shock - she's bleeding, and she just watched her ally die in front of her. The career is not ready to kill, not yet. Not now. And as Emma is pushed to walk back to wherever the careers are holed up, she realizes that she's not going to die yet.

She can't explain it - she doesn't know _how_ she knows - but she's realized that the girl from Five won't let that happen.

 **I also do not know what just happened**

 **Yes, I took a day off - I saw that some of you were getting overwhelmed by the upload schedule (cough cough me but for every other syot in existence cough cough) so I gave you all some reprieve. I hope you enjoyed the little break, bc we're back in full force now!**

 **10th: Desdemona Steen, District Eight Female; Killed by Tourmaline de Metz. Created by laterglader.**

Mona was fun to write - I like having people who are just killing everyone's mood by moaning and whatnot yet try (and fail) to be functional, and Mona fit that perfectly for this story. Everything just lessened her chances in the arena - losing her allies in the bloodbath when she managed to escape, getting a cold when she found her way to her new alliance, and being too sick to run when Tourmaline found the camp. She was smarter and stronger than most people would have assumed, but too snarky and pessimistic to really show that. I hope everyone enjoyed her asides, and a big thank you to later glader for Mona!

 **9th: Aloie Church, District Eleven Female; Killed by Tourmaline de Metz. Created by MysticalPineForest.**

Aloie was a sweet smol bean. We all know them, we all love them, we all sometimes get annoyed by how precious they are but come around to them in the end. But she had purpose and was driven - if I did this again, I would have liked to explore what might have happened if Luke and Aloie escaped the bloodbath together. Would Luke continue to be overprotective? Would Aloie find hidden strengths? In a previous draft, I had planned for Aloie to die in the bloodbath - as well as letting Callous or Luke win, which did NOT turn out the way I thought it would when I wrote - but I didn't want to let her go just yet. I think this is a good place for Aloie to die - she has nowhere else to run, but she knows that maybe, just maybe, her allies may escape. Thank you, pine for Aloie!

 **8th: Duchess Coruscate, District One Male; Killed by Colleen Tosse. Created by xxxbookwormmockingjayxxx.**

Duchess was a character. He went through a lot of changes in the pre-games in my plans and ended up being the first to die out of the trio in the Games - once their allies died, Aeson and Tourmaline didn't fight the way Duchess wanted them to - although Aeson did try to drug them and succeeded, kind of - but Tourmaline was closer to Duchess, and if it was Aeson to die she might not have reacted in the same way. Duchess worked hard to get what he needed, from sponsor gifts to kills, and he always put in the effort to get those things - it's a respectable trait, even if those methods included torture. Oh well, he was an interesting dynamic in the career alliance and I'm glad he made it this far. Thank you, xxxbookwormmockingjayxxx, for Duchess!

 **Now, we move into the final eight - no, seven now! :o How will Aeson react to this? How will the careers move on? Will our final seven combust even further? We'll see! I'm excited to share the rest of this with you, and I can only hope that you are as well!**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	33. Arena VII: Tensions

Maybe Tourmaline's forgotten something from back at the Capitol, but she _trusts_ the girl from Five right now.

She needs to.

 **.oOo.**

 **Tourmaline de Metz, 18  
District One Female  
3 Kills**

Tourmaline is…

She doesn't know what she is anymore. She just wants to find Aeson. She wants to get back to the mansion.

She doesn't want to think about the fact that she's just lost her district partner.

It's strange, knowing that Duchess is gone. He had been kind enough to her in the long run, cordial in the Academy and working as a trusted ally through their time in the Capitol. Sure, he had been subversive, but who _wasn't_ subversive back in the group of people fighting to enter the Hunger Games in her home district? He was just another kid, a young one at that, someone who shouldn't have died here. She knows that he shouldn't be dead now - he was too young. Even if he did horrible things, he was sixteen. _Sixteen_.

And now she's walking along with the girl from Nine in front of her, her hands bound, and the girl from Five as her ally. Something about the girl from Five being a threat echoes through Tourmaline's mind - who said that? - but Tourmaline can't find a reason to hate her. She's nice enough, firm, strong - really, she should have joined the careers from the start. Maybe Tourmaline's forgotten something from back at the Capitol, but she _trusts_ the girl from Five right now.

She needs to.

The mist is starting to thicken behind them, the sun shimmering through the water vapour before it disappears from view, and Tourmaline starts to jog. "We need to get back before it comes closer," she tells the other girls, and they nod. They want to be out here in the mist as little as she does.

When the tall, solid trees with cork-brown trunks begin to fade away in favour of lithe, swaying trees, she realizes that they're nearly at the creek. "Alright, let's keep moving," she tells the others. Is she being pushy? She doesn't know now - she was fine leading Duchess and Aeson, but now… now, it's like her mind is fogging over. Did she eat something bad? Oh, it's hard to think now. There's no use in it. She'll just follow the girl from Five, Tourmaline supposes, and hope for the best.

"Watch out for the bank," murmurs the girl from Nine as they walk through the meadow, and Tourmaline nods. "Help me down?"

Tourmaline helps hoist the girl down, leaping onto the sand, then they wade into the current before emerging on the other side of the creek. The girl from Five is right behind them, clutching her knife as she pushes through the water and jumps up the bank. "Alright, we're almost there," Tourmaline yawns - why is she yawning? It's not even the evening yet - and they walk past the trails of salt - oh, that feels so long ago - before finally entering the mansion.

Aeson drops the food that he's holding when he sees the three, fumbling for a spear as he fixes his eyes on the two outliers. "What - how - where's Duchess? What happened?"

Tourmaline shakes her head blearily, shrugging in the girls' direction with her spear still in her hand. "They… we have a lot to talk about, I guess."

Before Aeson has a chance to reply, she sinks to the ground - it's strangely comfortable to lie on the cool, tiled floor - and falls into a dreamless sleep.

 **.oOo.**

Emma doesn't know what she'll do here, but it'll be _something_ \- and when it happens, she can escape again.

 **.oOo.**

 **Emma von Hapsburg, 18  
District Nine Female  
2 Kills**

The girl from Five, still holding her knife, raises an eyebrow and frowns. "Don't know what that's about, but I've joined the alliance. Girl from Nine - Emma, I think - is our prisoner. It's a long story, but we ran into each other and I, well, I did your ally a few favours. Does she always fall asleep like this?"

"I - actually, I did - never mind." The boy from Two gapes at Emma and the girl from Five for a while longer, and Emma has the good sense to keep her mouth shut. Even if she doesn't know what this girl is planning, it won't do her any good to protest against it.

She'll play the part of a humble prisoner for now.

"Alright, alright, alright - let's say that you really did work with Tourmaline, you helped her with killing that alliance, and you brought this girl here. Why should I trust you instead of killing you both on the spot?"

"Insurance," the girl replies with a look that Emma can't decipher. "Colleen, by the way. Now, let me put it this way - I want to stay alive, and fish isn't doing it for me. I'll work with you, find the boys from Three and Six or whatever, but I want food and I want a warm place to sleep. If we kill the girl, we lose that buffer between us and the finale. Do you really want to start fighting your allies when it's the eighth day and you have six left in the arena?" The girl, Colleen, gazes over at the boy from Two. "I think you'd rather have it this way."

The boy frowns, letting a sword balance between his hands as he calculates his odds. Then, he drops the sword - he knows that it's best to let them in. Emma's safe. She's safe. She can keep living - for now. "Aeson. Now, get that girl into the cornucopia - if we're going to have a captive, we might as well make sure that she can't run."

The girl from Five nods, moving Emma through the piles of crates that are stacked up around the large cornucopia before entering the mouth of the horn. She ties the rope that bound Emma's hands together to a weapon's rack, taking away the sword and knives that hang from the rack as an afterthought. But she drops a knife along the way - a long, sharp, glittering thing that Colleen deliberately ignores while she walks back to Aeson.

Emma reaches out with a foot and gets a hold on the knife, sitting down on it in case Aeson thinks of checking on her.

The girl from Five really is her friend, at least for now. Emma doesn't know what she'll do here, but it'll be _something_ \- and when it happens, she can escape again.

How is Jackson doing right now, she wonders - is he alright? Is he safe? He should be - four tributes are in this mansion, herself included, and the other two are elsewhere in the arena. He should survive his encounter with the careers, and if she gets away with supplies, she'll find him as quickly as she can.

She wants her ally back.

A long, drowsy hour passes, and Emma is dimly aware that the girl from One, a Tourmaline, has been moved to a bedroom where she'll sleep for a while longer. Eventually, Colleen comes back with a plate of food - no knife included to spear the meager portions of rice and dried meat. "Eat up - I'll untie you until you're finished."

"How did you convince them?" Emma whispers while eating more of the rice, savouring the feeling of her hands finally being freed. "Are you going to escape soon?"

"Shh - shh!" Colleen replies, looking over her shoulder to make sure that Aeson isn't close. "We're going to get out - they want allies, and if they can't find anyone I've told them we'll kill you to make up for it. Before that happens, though, we're going to get out of here. With food, and weapons, and everything. Sounds good?"

"Of course," replies Emma, and she allows Colleen to tie her hands together and leave her alone in the cornucopia.

After all, with the knife that's currently hidden under her legs, she can leave at any time she pleases.

 **.oOo.**

He wonders if the same will happen to Emma.

 **.oOo.**

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
District Six Male  
1 Kill**

He's left alone in the woods by the three girls, with nothing but the bloodied knife that the girl from Five tossed towards him, two dead bodies, and three words on his mind.

 _What just happened?_

Like a dream, he walks through the mist and away from the bodies; they're supposed to be taken by the Capitolites in due time, so that they can be patched up and sent back to the districts in tidy little coffins. No, he's not supposed to be close to them when that happens. He should stay away, stay safe - what would the Capitolites do to him if he got too close?

A more rational part of Jackson's brain tells him that he's currently in shock from watching Aloie die and the boy from One being killed right in front of him, but for some reason he can't _understand_ what happened. Maybe that's what shock is supposed to do - it eats away at people until they don't know what's happened anymore.

He sure doesn't feel like he knows what's happened. Not now.

After an eternity of walking through the woods, he realizes that he's only getting himself more and more lost. At this point, Jackson has no idea where he is - he only has a knife now, a knife and no allies. They've all been killed.

He wonders if the same will happen to Emma.

A squirrel chitters at him from its comfy position in a big oak tree, and he looks back up at it. There aren't many squirrels in Six - no, the only ones that decide to reside in the big cities of his district are long, black squirrels with bushy tails the size of a foot. They're vicious, every child in Six learns that when they discover that the rodents don't like to be chased - they'll try to bit back. But this one is small and red-brown, bright black eyes watching Jackson as it chews a nut.

If only he felt that secure right now.

The only thing left to do seems to be to walk forwards, so Jackson continues to make his way through the woods. The mist is beginning to come back in full force - it thickens with every step he takes, wrapping around trees and bushes that were so clearly visible just a few seconds ago. The mist is taking the arena back - it won't do for the world to be so visible. He's going to have to find a place to settle down for the night - which is only in a few hours, after all. He has to… he has to…

He takes a step forward, then hops backwards until he smacks back into a tree.

The pain is better than falling off of the cliff that was just under his feet a second ago.

Slowly, carefully, he peers over the cliff to see mist… but it's _not_ just mist that he sees. It's something darker, something that looks primitive and vicious and _terrifying._ He breathes in the fumes that it sends off, and screams - it's like he's seen his own death flash in front of his eyes. He needs to get away. He needs to get away.

Stumbling away in blind, primitive terror, he pushes past the forest until he can't go on for much longer. But he doesn't look back. He refuses to look back at that… that _thing_.

He doesn't want to see if it's following him.

 **.oOo.**

She has to find food, find _something_ \- for her baby.

For herself.

 **.oOo.**

 **Magnolia Rosa-Tran, 18  
District Seven Female  
0 Kills**

She needs to find some more food.

She looks across the lake to see the creek that burbles merrily out into the larger body of water. It seems like a place where a tribute might have gone - for who could have gotten up into the top of the mountain, and those who managed to find their way into the forest wouldn't be easily found. But if someone has set up along the creek, drinking its water and possibly fishing… they may have supplies, and she knows how to convince people to give things to her.

She has two very good reasons, after all.

Her ankles are uncomfortable in the boots that she's been wearing for the past week - how many days is it? Eight now, she thinks - and looking down, Lee sees that they look a bit swollen. That's strange - she can't recall swelling before during the pregnancy, and she hadn't remembered reading about it either. Perhaps it's something that occurred in the third trimester, she thinks, and the thought both comforts and stresses her. She's closer to giving birth to her baby, but yet she's in a place where everyone is trying to kill _her_.

And her baby can't survive alone here. It needs Lee. It needs a mother.

She has to find food, find _something_ \- for her baby.

For herself.

The lake's water laps at the shores that she walks across, and she looks back to see her footprints behind her. Hopefully, no one that's moving frequently is close to her - they'd find her trail straight away, and she can't run as fast as the others. She heard three cannons, all in a row, this morning - someone is killing the rest of the competition. They may be looking for more right now.

She'd rather be the murderer than the murdered, Lee thinks, and hardens her resolve to keep on searching. If she does find someone, she won't hesitate to take what she needs. The person might understand. Maybe.

She continues to walk through the shores of the lake, watching for other tributes. But none seem to be around, and she reaches the mouth of the creek while a blister begins to form on the sole of her left foot. She'll have to do something about that - but not right now. She can bear it for a while longer - it's not too difficult of a burden.

Just a little further, that's all. Then, she'll stop.

She continues through the creek, looking for tributes - at this point, she doubts that she'll find anything, let alone another tribute with actual _supplies_ , rubbing her eyes and yawning. It's starting to get late - soon, the anthem will start and she'll get to see who died this afternoon. Who would it have been - the alliance that seems to lose more and more members every day in the arena after practically being eradicated in the bloodbath? The girl from Eight? The boy from Three? The girl from Five? The careers? She has no idea yet - and it'll be fascinating to see even a hint of what caused so many deaths today.

But as she rounds a turn in the creek and sees the boy from Three, lounging in a crevice in the bank of the creek, she realizes that she'll have to wait a bit longer.

 **.oOo.**

That it's a sponsor gift. And the fact that there is no number on its centre means that it could be for either of them.

 **.oOo.**

 **Antimony Sinebad, 15  
District Three Male  
1 Kill**

"What - why are you here?" he stammers as he sees the looming figure of the tribute come closer and closer in the twilight sun that shines through the mist. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I need supplies," is her reply, and the tribute - the _girl_ \- brandishes her frighteningly large axe. "Nothing personal, but I need food and you look like someone who might have some."

"But I have nothing!" Antimony moans, gesturing around the area to show the girl that he has nothing with him but the clothes on his back. And it's true - he's found nothing in the creek except water to fill himself with and grubs - they taste horrible and he chokes on them whenever he tries to swallow too quickly, but they're the things that are keeping him alive. He has nothing else - not a bottle of water, not a pack of food, nothing - well, except his knife.

He wouldn't part with his knife. Not even if she tried to kill him.

Well…

Maybe if she tried to kill him.

"Then you're a waste of time," sighs the girl, twirling her axe in her hand. She's good at playing with the large weapon, and Antimony realizes that it's the girl from Seven who's threatening him - the pregnant one, he recalls, as he stares at the large baby bump that stretches her grey clothes. "I suppose I should let you go, take pity on you seeing that you're not going to do me any favours, but maybe I should take care of you now - wait, what is that?"

They both whip their heads around, listening for the shrill beeping noise that echoes around the stone walls of the creek before a splash startles them back to action. Bobbing right past them is a grey, circular package that flashes red and grey in its centre, telling them that…

That it's a sponsor gift. And the fact that there is no number on its centre means that it could be for either of them.

 _But only one will get to it._

He lunges for the package first, falling into the water as he wraps his arms around the lifesaving gift. The current tries to push him below the surface, but he's too tall to be swayed - he staggers to the other side with his burden, dropping it on the pebbles that make up this side of the shore. "Stop!" yells the girl, splashing after him. "You can't - you can't take that!"

Antimony throws his knife at her - a stupid move, but one that startles her enough to cause her to retreat. He takes his chance to bolt away, running past the pebbles and rushing water in an effort to escape his fellow tribute. But the pounding footsteps tell him that she hasn't hesitated for long - she's going to take his gift. She's going to make him fight for it. She's going to try to kill him.

He throws the gift to the ground and pounces on the girl, knocking the axe out of her hand and halfway into the water, where the head of the axe lies uselessly. Antimony struggles with the girl's attacks, dodging her nails and yelping as she rakes his face before pushing back. She's strong, but he's just as strong - reaching for a large rock that lies to his side, he lifts it above his head and -

And pauses. She's… she's _pregnant_. He can't do this, not to her - no, it's wrong, it's wrong - can he? Should he? Will he?

The girl from Seven shoves him off of her in his momentary pause, crawling through the pebbles to reach her axe. After another moment, Antimony realizes what he's just lost - his one chance to overwhelm her and _run_. He could have - he could have -

The axe smashes into his face and he screams, feeling it slice and slice away until… until… until…

Until he discovers that he can't see anything at all now - no, it's all gone because he's _lost_ his final gamble.

It's all over.

 **.oOo.**

She'd be a useful ally - he just doesn't trust her.

 **.oOo.**

 **Aeson Humpford, 18  
District Two Male  
3 Kills**

When the next cannon goes off, he has no choice but to admit to himself that the plan has gone awry.

"Who do you think that was?" Colleen asks as she sits down on one of the crates that is scattered around the cornucopia. Aeson resists the urge to move away - he's still not sure of what to think of the girl from Five, but he knows that she's determined to stay with the pack.

Whether he likes it or not.

"I guess one of the tributes found out that their time here is up," he replies absently, then points to the sky. "The anthem should be playing any moment - Tourmaline should be up by now, the slee- maybe she'll be less tired now that she's slept through half of the day."

Colleen looks at him with a probing gaze, and Aeson curses internally for having slipped up. He shouldn't be telling her a _thing_ , not about the sleeping potion, not about his fights with the Ones, not about anything at all. He can't trust an outlier - he can only trust himself.

And he has to hope that an awakened Tourmaline won't be as perceptive as this girl from Five is.

How could it have gone so wrong? He doesn't know, he thinks as he walks over to the door and through the hallway that leads to the bedrooms they brought Tourmaline to. Aeson had hoped that the sleeping medicine would have kicked in later in the day, after the fight - when the two would be weakened enough for him to dispatch of two more competitors. But somehow, it had taken its toll on the Ones earlier than he thought - as he fumbled around with his urinary tract infection, the two yawned their way through a battle that Tourmaline barely survived. No, nothing had gone right - he should have been with them, they should have killed the girl from Nine, and then he could have killed them both. He was so close to winning. He was so close.

He could kill the girl from Nine now, but Colleen won't let him. He's argued with her about it for too long already - she has the upper hand. He knows that it's risky to head out into the arena with just Tourmaline - and judging by her high score, the girl from Five knows how to do _something_. She'd be a useful ally - he just doesn't trust her.

He'll have to find a way to get rid of her. For now, though, he's in a stalemate - with Tourmaline on their side, one misstep from him could mean that his time in the arena is over. He's outmatched.

"Aeson!" a voice calls from the bedroom, and he opens the door to see Tourmaline stretching on the large bed that he and Colleen had laid her down upon. "I just woke up - are Colleen and Emma still here?"

"They are," he replies, forcing a cheerful tone into his voice. If he wants to stay on her good side, it won't do to seem unhappy about their new ally and prisoner. "Colleen is guarding Emma again - I came to see if you're ready to get up. The anthem's about to play, you know."

"Oh, there it is!" Tourmaline points outside, and she's right - the emblem of Panem stays affixed in the sky as their national anthem plays, before four faces flash across the sky - Duchess, the boy from Three, the girl from Eight, and the girl from Eleven. "So it was Three who died… maybe the boy from Six killed him. He got Duchess, after all - he's a threat. We'll need to find him."

"Maybe we can ask Emma where he could be," mutters Aeson, trying to remain positive. He doubts that she'd give them any useful information - after being tied up for hours, there's no way she'd trust the careers with the lives of their friends. It would take torture, something that he's never been good at - something that he doubts the girl from Five would let him do.

"I guess so," Tourmaline replies, and they sit on the mattress for a while. He has so many things that he wants to say to her - that she shouldn't trust the outliers, that it's alright that Duchess is gone, that they'll be fine - but he keeps silent. For now, silence is safest for him - he doesn't know if Tourmaline trusts the girls or not, and he has no desire to test how deep their bond is right now. He'll have to find a way to convince his ally that he's the only one she can trust - even if he tried to kill her off without knowing.

This isn't what Aeson expected to deal with when he entered the Hunger Games. But it's what he's been given, and he's going to make the most of it.

He hasn't made the final six for just _anything_ , after all.

 **Final six!**

 **7th: Antimony Sinebad, District Three Male; Killed by Magnolia Rosa-Tran. Created by goldie031.**

This was one of the harder deaths. Antimony was cunning and willing to do anything needed to win - I liked his character a lot and found it a lot of fun to write him through the Capitol. But he wasn't one of the people I had in plan for victor, so I reserved him a spot in the bloodbath until I had second - no, more like fifth - thoughts and switched him into the top eight. I think his arc was much better this way - instead of a reckless action cutting him down in the bloodbath, he had time to make little mistakes and build his resentments until he snapped and killed his ally over a bottle of water - thirst and sleep deprivation can do strange things. After that, he was somewhat of a loose cannon, never meeting up with anyone until he essentially stumbled his way to the creek, where he met Lee, and lost his life because he hesitated to kill a pregnant woman - I mean, almost every other tribute hesitated at the _least_. It's Lee's first kill, and I hope it's a good death for Antimony. Thank you, goldie! I enjoyed him a lot.

 **And now we have three arena chapters to go - what will happen? Who will persevere? What will happen to the only alliance left? Find out in the next chapter :o And I'll leave you at that. Enjoy, and until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	34. Arena VIII: Charge

He's been asleep for too long.

 **.oOo.**

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
District Six Male  
1 Kill**

He's… he's…

He's been asleep for too long.

Two days ago - or three? Four? It's hard to tell, now that the mist is so overwhelming that he can't even see the sun and there's never an interlude for him to walk through the arena - he watched Aloie and Mona die in front of him, watched the girl from Five kill the boy from One before giving him her knife and telling him to leave, he ran and ran and now… and now…

Now, all he has is the lake that he can't see to the other side of. At least he has water here - a small mercy, considering that he's lost so much already.

The sand and pebbles that are underneath his shoes make a sloppy, crunching noise as he pushes himself up to stand. He had stumbled below an overhanging ledge of sand and fell asleep last night in a moment of delirium - if he was able to string together coherent thoughts, he surely would have been able to remember that he should stay away from hills of sand and dirt. If a kid messes with them, they'll get themselves buried - he doesn't know if he'd make it out if it fell on him.

But it didn't. And he's still here. He's still here.

Jackson doesn't know if he's alright with still being here.

A leaf from the forest that hangs over the edge of the lake falls from its branch, sending waves of ripples throughout the water until their tiny, miniscule waves reach the shore and brush the soles of his sneakers. Jackson smiles - somehow, his shoes look dirtier than the ones he has at home, ones that he's been wearing for years now. Over the week - weeks? - he's been here, they've been scuffed and waterlogged, muddied and crushed into shadows of their former selves.

His clothes aren't much better - the saggy grey t-shirt that he was given by the Capitol is covered with blood, mud and the sand that he slept on last night, and he knows that the knees and hems of his pants are ripped up from sprinting through the thorn bushes of this arena. He's a mess, yet he's still here.

And he needs to put himself together now, he's realized that - or else he won't be able to stay in this arena for much longer.

There's only a handful of tributes left. Racking his brain, he realizes that he doesn't know how many there are any more - he recalls a cannon sometime ago, but it's hazy. It's like that… it's like the darkness he saw tainted his memories, swirling its finger into his brain and muddling everything up. There are supposed to be two careers left, Emma, and the girl from Five - he can't remember anyone else. He doesn't know, he just doesn't know.

As he starts to walk into the forest, he keeps an eye out for the berry bushes that Aloie told him would be there. He stays far away from the poisonous bushes - no, he remembers that much from training about what berries were poisonous. For a while, he finds nothing except maroon berries that are poisonous, nightlock that dangles from its large bushes, and strange parodies of strawberries that he doesn't recall the name of - or if it's poisonous, for that matter. He stays far away from those ones. He's not messing around with poisonous berries, even if he'll starve to death first.

Then again, he thinks as he shifts his grasp on his knife from the Five girl, he might have better luck if he looks for something more sustainable.

Perhaps it's time for him to get vicious.

 **.oOo.**

And soon, he'll need to make his next move.

 **.oOo.**

 **Aeson Humpford, 18  
District Two Male  
3 Kills**

It's the ninth day, and he still hasn't figured out how to get rid of the plagues that are the girl from Five and the girl from Nine.

He's tried to bring Tourmaline on a few hunts through the arena, trying to find the other two tributes that just can't go off and die like they're supposed to, but the mist thickens even more whenever they step outside. They're supposed to stay in and wait for something to happen - or, as he views it, tear each other to shreds until it's time to find the other two tributes. Their confinement in the massive mansion is to make sure that they finish off the rest of the competition, finally get _moving_ \- it's just that the girls don't think the same way.

Oh, he wishes he hadn't drugged Tourmaline and Duchess like that - how was he supposed to know that it would be the stupidest thing he could have done? It's what led them to lose that battle, to have Tourmaline bring back the girl from Five who doesn't seem to sleep and guards the girl from Nine with a passion. But it had seemed right then, and he had went ahead with it - it's a high-stakes game that he's been playing.

And soon, he'll need to make his next move.

The mist is a dull grey today - nothing shines into the mansion, which feels rutted now that he's stuck with the emptied boxes from the careers. They had hidden most of the supplies on the first day, and had never bothered to replace it after the first week had ended. Now that the girls have joined them, he's almost glad that they never tried to replace the most valuable stuff - if they ever try to run away in the night and last a few days by themselves, they won't be taking the things that they've deemed important. At most, they'll get a few knives and salt.

Oh, he hates that salt.

"Has Tourmaline asked about sorting through the supplies in the cornucopia?" Colleen asks when he walks towards her, fiddling with a knife that she's found in the cornucopia so that she can chop up something for tonight's meal. That's one thing that he can find about the girl that works out in his favour - she can cook well, and she uses that skill every night. It's a blessing that she's not stupid enough to try to run with a knife as she works with the food still left in the cornucopia, because she's _good_ at this. It's the best meal one can get in here. "I'm heading to the kitchen soon, but it's messy here - you can't find anything. Why is there so much salt, by the way?"

"Ask the gamemakers," he replies wryly. "They're the ones who stocked the cornucopia."

Colleen laughs. "I suppose so, but they're not exactly available at the moment. Right now, I guess we'll have to wait and ask after one of us gets out of here." She shrugs, looking into Aeson's eyes with an innocent, cloying look. "Maybe it'll be you, or me. Or neither of us."

He doesn't let the girl see it, but his fists slowly clench up into balls as she walks away with the tray of food that she'll prepare. Oh, oh, oh, oh…

He's letting himself get overwhelmed. He's found himself a bad alliance, he knows that, and it's time to leave.

Tonight, he'll go. First, though, he'll try to deal with the outliers.

It'll only be fair.

 **.oOo.**

Maybe if she gets out of here, she'll start making better choices.

 **.oOo.**

 **Emma von Hapsburg, 18  
District Nine Female  
2 Kills**

She's hoping that Colleen's ready to leave this alliance soon. But first, she hopes that they do something to the careers.

It'll only be fair.

Over the past few days, Emma's done nothing but think. She doesn't regret the fact that she killed Tim back in the bloodbath - no, that was necessary to get them all out of the alliance - but she does regret being rude to Mona at first. She shouldn't have acted like the girl was dead weight, even if she was. That was cruel of her, unthoughtful, something that she wouldn't have done if she had a full stomach and a good night's sleep.

Maybe if she gets out of here, she'll start making better choices.

She regrets not killing the girl from One as well, but that doesn't weigh as heavily on her mind. She does like Tourmaline, from what she's seen of her so far - the girl's smart, strong, and ready to fight, to lead, to make something of herself. If she came from One, Emma could see herself being a bit like the girl.

She shouldn't dwell on what could have been, though - after all, she has to be ready for when she kills the careers with Tourmaline, or run, or whatever the girl from Five has planned for them both. She has to be ready - filling her mind up with false relationships wouldn't help matters at all.

No, she'll stay patient and wait. When the time comes, she'll be ready. She knows it.

"Hey, Emma," a voice calls to her as someone enters the mouth of the cornucopia, and Emma makes sure that her knife is hidden between her legs before looking up to see who it is. "Would you like to come out for supper? I know you're the prisoner, but we're all here - I don't know, it feels better to have you with us." Tourmaline trails off, blushing a bit as she says it.

"I suppose I have time on my hands," Emma drawls with a smile, and the career laughs. "I'll come - I probably don't have a choice in the matter."  
"Here, let me help you up," Tourmaline says, hoisting Emma up and untying the ropes that bind her to the weapon's rack. "Aeson probably won't like it, but Aeson is Aeson - we have to do _something_ to stay human around here. I think a lot of people go a bit crazy around the final eight - it's something that we studied back in One, how to keep your composure later in the game. I guess you didn't do the same in Nine, huh?"

"We had lessons on survival, too," quips Emma, "But it was more on how to preserve your food rations in case we ever had a bad drought again." She shakes her head at the thought - in bad years, they'd go without most food for weeks. Her family would be lucky if they could scrape together more than a few loaves of bread and melted bits of butter to put on the dinner table.

Tourmaline bites her lip, thinking about Emma's statement. "I suppose… I suppose here, we're on equal footing at least."

 _She couldn't be more right about that_ , thinks Emma, and she follows the career towards the kitchen.

It's time to eat.

 **.oOo.**

She eased into the role of the chef, making sure to let them know that her cooking was harmless - well, until it won't be.

And that'll be tonight.

 **.oOo.**

 **Colleen Tosse, 18  
District Five Female  
1 Kill**

She whips together a small salad as she waits for the pasta to cook on top of the stove, chopping up tomatoes and cucumbers with leaves of lettuce to mix together into a bowl that'll serve as their appetizer. From there, she takes shredded carrots, peppers, and other assorted vegetables to mix into the salad - the sauce, that she's chilled for a bit in the large fridge that the mansion is handily equipped with, is drizzled onto her work last before she mixes it all together. The others will be happy to eat this - she knows that she can cook well, and they're happy with her fixing them all meals. It's a good set-up.

And it's her solution to the problem that she's been mulling over for close to three days.

She looks over at the bottle of poison that she was gifted a few days ago by some kindly sponsor - she's been saving it for quite some time now, waiting for the right moment to slip it into the careers' food. Her first few meals, she avoided it - it would do no good to try to pull tricks on them when Colleen cooking was a relatively new phenomenon to them. She eased into the role of the chef, making sure to let them know that her cooking was harmless - well, until it won't be.

And that'll be tonight.

The pasta comes to a boil once more, and she turns down the heat on the stove so that the water will stop foaming over the sides of the pan. To make sure that it doesn't stick together in clumps of grain, she throws a few teaspoons of olive oil into the mix - it calms the churning water and swirls around in the middle of the pan. It's the oldest trick in the book, and it works every time.

What she doesn't touch, however, is the meaty sauce that she's cooking on the other side of the stove.

She adds a little more poison to the sauce mix - the flavour hidden with extra tomatoes that she's mashed up for tonight - and stirs it around so it'll mix with the rest of the sauce. Hopefully, it'll mix evenly. She doesn't want to give any of the careers a smaller portion of sauce than needed to kill them - no, that would complicate matters. She needs this to be a clean kill. It would be good to have a clean kill. Two dead, and then the rest of the cornucopia would be hers for the taking.

It's a risky gamble, but it's about to pay off.

She carries the pot of sauce to the table, where the others are waiting patiently. Emma - wait, why is she here? She's supposed to be back in the cornucopia, Colleen thinks - has one hand lightly bound to a chair, presumably so she's not able to run away from the alliance. Aeson and Tourmaline sit on both of her sides, Tourmaline chatting about the other two tributes out there while Aeson mutters his replies.

Colleen's alarmed to see that Emma's here, but she'll think of something. She will. She'll figure it out… she'll figure it out in time.

After all, she has as much time to think as it takes her to carry the salad and pasta back to the table so they can eat - and by then, she has her answer.

"Careful, Emma," she says as she begins to ladle portions of pasta onto the other's plates. "You've got a tomato allergy, right? You better pick out the tomatoes in the salad - and avoid the stew." Emma looks up at her peculiarly, and Colleen's breath is caught in her throat until the girl from Nine realizes why Colleen is bluffing like this.

"Of course, of course," Emma murmurs, and waits for Tourmaline to pass her the pasta. She casually nods towards Colleen - she understands.

Colleen's not able to breathe until she sees that Emma knows why she's lied.

"Could you pass the salad?" Tourmaline asks, reaching over Emma to take a spoonful of pasta. "I like to eat my greens first - helps with digestion and all that. Ooh, I like the smell of that dressing!"

Colleen calmly takes salad as well, not bothering to look over at Aeson and Tourmaline as they continue to eat. It's just a matter of time. It's just a matter of time, and then she can run.

Of course, she hadn't accounted for the fact that one of the careers - at least it was Tourmaline - might not eat the sauce before the other - Aeson, thankfully - started choking to death.

Of course, that's exactly what happened next.

 **.oOo.**

She needs to get back in and _stop_ them.

 **.oOo.**

 **Tourmaline de Metz, 17  
District One Female  
3 Kills**

The first signs that there's something wrong with the food come when Aeson starts to choke on his pasta.

"Are you okay?" she asks, getting up from her chair just in case he needs help. She hasn't dealt with many choking incidents before, but she remembers how to perform that one maneuver - all of the teens who entered the Academy back in One learned basic first aid skills in their first year. But Aeson doesn't reply - he starts to turn an ugly shade of blue, one that matches an ugly painting that hangs behind him on the wall, and begins to _froth_ , of all things, at the mouth.

"Aeson? Aeson!" she yells, trying to shake the larger boy out of his seat. "Aeson! Aeson - what - what happened?"

And then it hits her - the girls did something. She doesn't know what they did to the food, but they poisoned him, tried to kill her ally - tried to kill _her_.

As she looks up to see what they've done, she sees the back of the girl from Nine as the two dart away and into the hallway that leads back to the mansion.

A cannon for Aeson booms, and Tourmaline charges through its echo to catch her newest prey.

She can still run faster than she thinks that she can when she wants to, and now that the troublesome tired feeling that's been lingering for the past few days is gone she can focus on whatever she needs to. She skids around a corner, bruising a shoulder and avoiding a nasty gash from a nail that juts out of the wall before she continues to chase the girls. She's not going to stop - she'll catch up before they get out, catch them, and kill them. It'll be simple. It'll be easy.

But as she rounds a final corner and heads for the door, she hears the click of a lock, the rushed percussion of running feet, the sound of metal hitting the floor as the girls begin to root through the cornucopia - they've locked her out. They've locked her out.  
She needs to get back in and _stop_ them.

How could she have trusted them? She doesn't know anymore, it's like the mist played games with her that one day. And she _did_ trust the girl from Five, and she had been a good ally to her - until now, at least. It's obvious, though, that they didn't feel the same way. She should have known it as soon as Colleen had insisted on keeping Emma alive - even if it was a failsafe, it was a flimsy one at that. Colleen had wanted numbers on her side, and she was too _stupid_ to see through it.

If Tourmaline was a rookie, she'd be taking pages of notes on all of the mistakes she's made through these Games. But she thought she had grown past that - it's obvious that she hasn't grown very much after all.

She hurls a shoulder at the door, wincing at the impact before trying again. There's no use listening to the pain at this point - right now, she has a goal. The pain doesn't factor into that. She can feel the bruise on her shoulder growing, but the door begins to eventually buckle - a final kick sends a large chunk of the wooden frame flying into the room that houses the cornucopia. From there, she pushes through and runs towards the cornucopia.

Surprisingly, the girls are still there - they obviously hadn't counted on her getting through so soon. Emma trips over a bag of salt as she tries to get through the mess of crates, holding an armful of supplies and packs that she's rummaged through, and Tourmaline feels a new wave of appreciation for the much maligned bags of salt rush over her again. But it's not over. She seems to know that without thinking, so she reaches for a spear as if she's dreaming and gives it a quick, methodical throw. Her aim is perfect, her stance strong - it's a textbook throw.

It arches towards the girl from Nine, then spears her through her chest as she tries to get back up from where she's sprawled on the ground. Emma collapses back onto the bag of salt, reaching up to feel where the spear's head is poking through her back, then gives a harsh gasp that chills Tourmaline's bones. "It's over, isn't it?" she mutters, trying to push herself back up.

"I wish it wasn't," murmurs Tourmaline, then finishes the girl off by pulling the spear back out the way it came. For a moment, she watches Emma's hazel eyes film over, then throws her spear in the direction of the fleeing girl from Five.

It misses, of course, and Tourmaline shakes her head as the second cannon begins its rumble. Her time here's over - no, she can't stay. The Capitolites will want her to stay out of the way of their way as they retrieve the bodies, of course, and she doesn't think she can stomach staying here any longer.

Not until she processes what just happened.

 **.oOo.**

Well, she's living those nightmares now.

 **.oOo.**

 **Magnolia Rosa-Tran, 18  
District Seven Female  
1 Kill**

She looks up when she hears the first cannon, setting down the tray of food and making sure that no one is too close to her. When she's satisfied that no one's around this part of the creek, she lets herself take a cautious step forward. She resists the instinctive urge to jump when she hears the second - something's happening in a corner of the arena, and she doesn't know what it is. She'll just have to be ready. She'll just have to make sure that she won't be the third.

Maybe it's the careers who are fighting one another, she thinks as she paces along the side of the creek. They seem to be the type who would self-implode at this stage of the Games - she remembers several different situations playing out in the same fashion back when she was a young girl watching the Games for the first time. The careers never seemed to know when it was the right time to break up, and it led to battles that haunted the dreams of her younger brothers - when she was older and aware of the world around her instead of focusing on only herself, she remembers hearing Linden whimper to himself about a fight that had happened that day.

As a little girl, she had never dreamed that she would be one of the tributes in the _Hunger_ _Games_ , of all things, yet here Lee is now. She had occasional nightmares about the Games, as did every other child in Seven, but they were usually about her brothers getting reaped because they took too much tesserae, her older sister getting ripped apart by mutts, little Pine walking up onto the stage during his first reaping. They had never focused on herself.

Well, she's living those nightmares now.

A splashing noise startles her from her thoughts, and Lee reaches for her axe as she listens for whoever is out there. She can't see them, but she hears someone rushing into the creek and up the other side - someone's fleeing from where they were before. It could be any of the five others she knows may still be alive - the careers, the girls from Five and Nine, and the boy from Six - Jackson, that's what his name was.

It could be any of them, she realizes, because the anthem's already gone off for the night. No one is going to know who just died in the past few minutes until tomorrow night - they'll all have to wait it out. The final four won't know who their fellow three are for the next twenty-four hours, not unless they stumble into one another in the mist that still lingers in the arena.

She plans to not be the first to find one of those final four - she's going to hunker down, finish off the food that she earned yesterday after killing the boy from Three, and see what the gamemakers would like her to do. Only three to go. Only three to go, and then she can go home.

The world might think that she's no match for the others. But she knows that she is - how else did she make it to the final four? Now, all she has to do is outlast three more. She's almost home.

She's almost back to normal.

 **And just like that, we've made it into the final four.**

 **AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**

 **6th: Aeson Humpford, District Two Male; Killed by Colleen Tosse. Created by 66samvr.**

Aeson was the first submission to Hiraeth, like summer 2018 long ago. I loved him instantly, and he fit well into the career pack - hiding his own secrets while trying to prove that he could make it through the arena and win for Two. He was a good addition to the trio, adding a bit of tension into the alliance with his semi-kinda-rivalry with Duchess before fighting to break Tourmaline out of the alliance. In the end, he just wasn't able to think ahead _enough_ \- instead of predicting that Colleen might try to off him after easing into a few meals, he simply just simmered in a brew of resentment until he was poisoned. Thank you, 66samvr, for Aeson. You knew that this was coming for a while now, but I hope you enjoyed him nonetheless. Also, happy 6th place!

 **5th: Emma von Hapsburg, District Nine Female; Killed by Tourmaline de Metz. Created by MRKenn.**

Emma was done dirty D: she was definitely one of the contenders for victor this year for me, always being placed somewhere in the top ten throughout my drafts of the arena until she got to cement her place in the final five. Originally, she was supposed to die in the fight with Mona, Duchess, and Aloie, but halfway through I realized she was too strong to plausibly get out and it could lead to some more interesting conflicts along the line if I brought her further. I think I was right - she was cunning and calculating, not regretting much and ready to do what it took to win the Games. It was just bad luck that Tourmaline managed to get her in the end: a few more seconds and she would have lived, but my mind was made up for the final four and I couldn't find any other way to bring her further. Thank you, MRKenn, for a lovely girl! Definitely one of my favourites to write this time around.

 **Yep, it's the final four! Before we head into the next chapter, I'd like to hear some of your predictions: who'll win? Who'll lose? Who are the underdogs of this group? What are your thoughts? It'd be great to see what you all think will happen - mainly so I can laugh at how wrong you are but who knows? Maybe you'll be right!**

 **I'll leave you at that - have a marvellous day, and enjoy! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	35. Arena IX: Darkness

Hey, maybe notching another kill will impress the Capitolites. That'd be good, right?

 **.oOo.**

 **Colleen Tosse, 18  
District Five Female  
2 Kills**

It's been two days since her attempt to kill the careers and loot the cornucopia went wrong - two long days that have brought her to the very end of the eleventh day with no other tributes in sight. She thought that by this point, the gamemakers would want to finish the rest of the tributes off, but they've apparently decided that it's best to let the tributes have some downtime before it's time to finish the 22nd Hunger Games.

She just wants to make it another day. Just one more. Just one more.

She doesn't want to die.

The Colleen of two weeks ago would have been surprised that she made it this far - well, that she's made it this far playing such a _sloppy_ game. Now that she's thought about it, she knows that she's made too many wrong choices: heading into that battle, risking her life in a gamble against the careers for no reason other than to get more supplies, then losing the chance to get all but a few supplies because she wasn't able to kill Tourmaline. And Emma died in the escape - she still feels bad about that. But she won't let it drag her down.

Dwelling on her actions now won't do her any good. No, right now the game that Colleen has to play is one that means she has to be alert as possible. She needs to hunt. She needs to find the others.

Well, not _need_. In the eyes of the gamemakers, the fact that she just killed a career might gift her a respite for another day or two, but she'd rather keep going.

Hey, maybe notching another kill will impress the Capitolites. That'd be good, right?

She starts to wander through the woods again, keeping an eye out for the other tributes - she doesn't know where the others are, but she figures that Tourmaline's at the mansion and the others are somewhere near a water source, like she was at the beginning of the Games. Tomorrow, she can search the lake for the others. But now, she wants to find a place to sleep.

She finds her place in a small nook of a tree, close to the meadow that she ran through after climbing up from the creek and away from the mansion. She would go further into the forest, but she's gotten those strange headaches whenever she's tried to - it's probably related to the _thing_ that she saw over the cliff. Perhaps it's the mist, perhaps it's that dark spot, perhaps it's both, but she won't mess with it. That's not the right decision for her, not if she wants to live.

Instead, she settles down into the spot she's chosen to sleep, feeling the rough bark scratch at the back of her skin and irritate her back, which has been so patient through her nights of sleeping on the forest floor and sand. Everything's been sore for the past few days, and every day she goes without proper sleep and sustenance means that the little injuries that she has will get worse.

Yes, tomorrow she'll hunt. It's the only way to finish this.

There's nothing that she wants more than to finish this right now.

 **.oOo.**

It should be simple to find the rest of the tributes now that the mist is gone.

 **.oOo.**

 **Tourmaline de Metz, 17  
District One Female  
3 Kills**

The first coherent thought that Tourmaline forms after waking up is that the sunlight outside is a gorgeous thing to see: it both illuminates the grounds around the mansion, dancing off of the face of the cliff and shimmering over the forests in the distance, and tells her that the mist is gone.

The mist is _gone._ Gone!

She leaps out of the large bed with red comforters and pillows that cover half of the surface of its mattress, getting dressed in the grey slacks that hang in every closet in the mansion. She's not surprised that it's the same grey as her outfit from the first day, or the next day, or every day after that when she found a new outfit in the mansion: the gamemakers have been stubborn on keeping the tributes in their monochrome attire. But Tourmaline doesn't mind: she'd rather get started with the day, get going, get hunting.

There's three tributes left in the arena, only three. She knows how to kill. She knows how to hunt. She can fight, even when she's outnumbered. She can finish these Games, net another victory for One, go _home_. If she plays the game the way she knows how to, she'll be home soon.

It should be simple to find the rest of the tributes now that the mist is gone.

A food packet that was hidden in the closet where they stored the best of the supplies is Tourmaline's breakfast. She munches on the dried trail mix and crunchy slices of apple inside, savouring the cinnamon-sugar taste with that delicious taste of salt. The sweet yet salty mix is just what she needs to start the morning - there's nothing like a sugar rush to get her mind thinking. And there won't be much of a crash - she has plenty of others that she can store on her. She'll use them sparingly, making sure that she doesn't overwork herself - it's not the day to make a mistake that she can avoid.

The other tributes will be trying to provide her with enough of those opportunities to fail.

She puts on the hardy footwear she was provided at the start of the Games, pushes her hair back into a messy bun to keep it out of her eyes, grabs a spear after rooting through the cornucopia to see what's left for her, and takes a deep breath. This is _her_ moment. This is _her_ time. She can do it.

By the time she's mustered enough courage to run outside and into the unknowns of the arena, her mind is made up - even if she loses, she'll die trying to take out her killer. She's ready to fight every bit of the way.

She needs to, if she wants to have even the smallest chance of winning.

She would have thought that she'd be here with Aeson or Enyo - fighting together to get rid of the other two tributes before turning on each other. Perhaps Duchess could have made it, but her ideal Games would have been only two of them in the final four - it's easier to work as a duo. At least for herself. But would she have won that way? If the careers survived the bloodbath unscathed, would she be here? Or would they have turned on her, taking down the leader before one another after the final eight?

Yet they _didn't_ turn on her - they died before they had the chance to. She's the one still here. Not them.

It's up to herself to win, and no one else. It's comforting to see it that way, she thinks as she runs into the forest closest to the cliff, then steels herself.

She'll be _ready_ to fight.

 **.oOo.**

She's not going to be the last one to answer that call.

 **.oOo.**

 **Magnolia Rosa-Tran, 18  
District Seven Female  
1 Kill**

She _has_ to be ready to fight, she knows that. But the creek is blessedly calm this morning, the sun warms the air, and there's no sign of the mist that's plagued the arena for the past eleven days. Perhaps the gamemakers have decided that it's no longer useful, now that the final four has been puttering around the arena for a few days, but she doubts that it'll be the last she'll see of it. It's too stubborn to leave so quietly.

She won't worry about it for now. Instead, she's going to search for more tributes.

The past few days have been spent by Lee looking along the creek for signs of other tributes - other than the one who had splashed past her two nights ago, she hasn't found a trace of one. She's been too nervous to leave the creek to properly search for the others, - the girl from One, the girl from Five, and the boy from Six if their images in the sky haven't lied to her - it's always felt too misty to her to risk getting lost in the arena. Today, though, she has no such excuse - the mist is gone, the sun is shining, and the arena is practically screaming at the final four to get up and do _something_.

She's not going to be the last one to answer that call.

The breeze dances through her hair and up into the bright blue sky, prodding Lee to rise with her axe in her hands. A pang of hunger sweeps her body, and she looks down in concern at her baby bump - she doesn't know how long she can go without food without starving the baby. It's only been a day or so, but she doesn't know how long it'll take to get out, to find others, to find food - oh, it's too hard to think about. Right now, the focus is getting out of the creek.

The waters of the lake laps at the mouth of the creek, yet she ignores the calm, shining waters. Their calmness means that there's no one in them - they're all in the forest, around the lake, _somewhere_ that isn't here. Did anyone make it to the top of the mountain? She doubts it - it was too high, too rugged for her to even attempt trying to get to the top. Even though she has a significant disadvantage in climbing that the others don't, Lee doesn't see anyone making it to the top.  
And if they did, what would they have found up there?

But it isn't something that should be her focus. Instead, she begins her hunt - her axe is ready to be thrown as she walks along the shores of the lake, and she keeps a calculated gaze on the horizon. She's not going to let anyone surprise her. Not here. Not now.

The walk along the lake is surprisingly shorter than she imagined - in a bit of time, she's almost back to the mouth of the creek. No other tributes have been spotted during the long walk - no, they seem to be in other parts of the arena. Perhaps they're in the forest, the cliff, where she was at the beginning of the Games, or the mansion - although only the girl from One would have stayed in the mansion, she thinks. She'll just have to keep looking until she finds one, especially with this opportunity - with the mist on, anything can happen.

She steps back into the gully that's home to the creek when she hears the noise - looking back, she frowns, then screams, more out of instinctual fear than her reaction.

Then again, who wouldn't scream when dark, billowing mist is coming towards them?

The mist seems to _hiss_ at her, and she runs - no, she _sprints_ for her life.

 **.oOo.**

She knows that this is the end game as well, it seems.

 **.oOo.**

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
District Six Male  
1 Kill**

He's wandered into the forest to who-knows-where when he sees the… the _thing_.

At first, he does nothing but stop and stare at the dark mist that creeps closer and closer to him. Jackson's head pounds the longer he stares at it - his mind can't do anything but run images of his impending death on repeat, his panic rising and rising and rising until he can't take it anymore and he runs.

Is it a run when he's moving so slowly? He hits trees and pushes away from brambles in his bid to escape the mist behind him, his legs operating on nothing more than adrenaline and pure terror. He's been starving for the last few days, he barely has anything left in him - yet he's still moving at what feels like a breakneck speed. When he looks back, he can see that the mist is starting to move faster as well, but he's outpacing it. He could make it, he thinks.

He hopes, really.

Now he's running past the clearing where the alliance had tried to build their ill-fated shelter, where he and Aloie and Emma had ran from the girl from One while Mona was killed, where they thought they would be safe. He doesn't stop there - no, it would be suicide to do anything but to move as fast as he could from the mist. He needs to make it somewhere safe, like… like the mansion. That would be safe, right? It has the cornucopia, there'd probably be tributes there, and it would be as good of a place as any to shelter himself from the mist. Maybe if the windows were closed, it wouldn't get in.

The details don't matter for now. What does is that he has an end goal in mind - without one, he'd lose any motivation except what he's been doing right now - running nowhere so that he can save his own life.

He strengthens his step - it pains his legs to do so, but he's still able to. He's almost there.

It's when he gets to the edge of the forest when he sees another one of the tributes still left - how many are there now? But there's one there, and he sees that it's the girl from Five, of all people, as his shoulder slams into a tree and he stumbles out of the forest. She takes a glance back, taking it all in - Jackson, the forest, the dark, gaping mist that's following him - and runs as well.

She knows that this is the end game as well, it seems.

Sprinting through the clearing - his lungs gasping and burning and clenching as they try to take in air - Jackson thanks the heavens for the fact that he spent most of his childhood out and running around his neighbourhoods. Without it, he surely wouldn't have made it this far - he's almost to the creek now, and he leaps into the waist-deep water before half swimming, half wading to the other side. The girl from Five has already made it to the top, and he claws his way up the rocky face as she heads into the grounds of the mansion.

And then he's at the top, and he keeps running and running until something surprising happens - the girl from Five stumbles over a trail of something white - what is that? - and tries to get up to her feet as Jackson passes her. Her knees are raw and bleeding, but he doesn't try to help her. The game is past the time for help.

What he needs is to protect _himself_. That's why instead of pausing to help her up, he runs past and into the safety of the mansion, his chest heaving as he stands in the room that houses the mighty cornucopia. He breathes and breathes and breathes, eyes darting around to see if anyone else has made it yet.

They haven't.

But they're coming.

 **.oOo.**

The last thing she needs here is to stumble and get herself killed.

 **.oOo.**

 **Magnolia Rosa-Tran, 18  
District Seven Female  
1 Kill**

She soon discovers that it's not a viable move to sprint for very long - no, she no longer has the speed and the stamina to do so. Instead, she tries to play it the only way she knows how to now - the smart way.

She has to find a way out of the creek's gully before the darkness swallows her whole. She doesn't know what'll happen if it does. She doesn't _want_ to know what'll happen.

Oh, she doesn't want to die.

When her legs realize as well that she's not going to be able to sprint for any longer, she turns around and looks towards the mouth of the creek. The darkness - that's the name of this strange mist in her mind, there's no other way she can describe it - has almost overtaken it, and she's definitely not fast enough to bridge the gap before it's covered by it completely. She has one choice: run into the creek and hope that she's faster than the mist, then try to climb up and get to wherever the gamemakers want her to go.

Her legs are aching as she half-walks, half-runs through the sand, keeping a hand on the wall to make sure she doesn't lose her balance. The last thing she needs here is to stumble and get herself killed. She has to be careful.

It's like her life is flashing before her eyes as she runs - she can see herself grow up, her siblings, her parents, running through Seven, the trees, her friends, the party, when she and Tim had found out that she was pregnant - all in the blink of an eye, and Lee shudders. Is the mist doing this to her? Is her mind playing tricks on her, or is it overwhelmed by the foul black stuff behind her? She can feel a quiet headache begin to throb once more as she wades through the shallows of a corner of the creek. Everything just feels like it's in pain now, and she doesn't know how she can deal with it if the darkness won't let up on her. She doesn't want to die. She doesn't… not now.

A last burst of energy sends her running as fast as she possibly can along the pebbly shores of the creek, trying to pull herself up onto the crags that jut of from the rock face. For a horrible moment, she can't find a hold to place her foot on and properly climb up and away from the mist, but then her groping foot finds a solid hold and she hoists herself up the wall. She reaches for the top of the wall, but her fingers can't find the edge where the grass meets the rock - she'll have to hoist herself again.

She's panicking as she reaches for another slab of rock, her baby bump rubbing against the rock as she tries to grab one. What would happen if she misjudged a distance and slammed into the wall, or worse, if she fell? She needs to be careful now - yes, she needs to make sure that she doesn't -

The edge that her right foot is clinging onto suddenly, inexplicably crumbles from underneath her, sending Lee tumbling back down to earth. Her axe flies out of her grasp, away to fall into the water or on the shore somewhere, and her head aches as she tries to get up. Oh, this is bad - what about her baby? What about -

The darkness overtakes her before she has another thought, rooting through her mind and searching for thoughts that it can force away. As she tries to struggle up, Lee feels a panic that she's never known before - it's primitive and raw and suffocating, clawing at her throat as she forces her tired body to breathe. Breath in, breath out.

Breath in, breath out.

Breath…

She hears a cannon above her and frowns. Is that her? Is that someone else? Is that…

And like that, her consciousness slips away from her and flies away into the mist.

 **.oOo.**

Whatever it is, it won't be good.

 **.oOo.**

 **Colleen Tosse, 18  
District Five Female  
2 Kills**

When the boy from Six rushes towards her, the forest's birds and animals chirping and yelping in alarm as a strange, dark mist rolls towards them with quiet efficiency, Colleen does the only thing that she can reasonably do in the situation.

She runs.

A realization that this is the finale dawns upon her as she pushes her legs past the clumps of flowers that grow in the clearing and towards the creek, where she'll leap down and climb back up to escape the foul mist. Of course it's the finale now - the mist leaving must have been to let the tributes' guard down, so they could get moving, get prepared before the gamemakers unleashed this final beast after them. She doesn't know what it would do to them, but she suspects it's fatal - she remembers the headache from peering over the cliff.

Whatever it is, it won't be good.

When she reaches the lip of the wall that peers over the creek, she scrambles down before rushing through the water and back up the other wall. The boy is even more panicked than she is - he jumps straight into the water itself, slamming into water up to his waist before he pushes to the other side through sheer force. She tries to climb up the other wall and onto the lawn just as quickly - not because she's scared of the boy from Six, but because something inside of her doesn't want to beaten by him. She wants to be the first to the mansion.

Of course the finale would be at the mansion, after all. They start where they began, among the ghosts of the bloodbath and the carnage of what's left of the cornucopia, and finish the Games off -

Colleen doesn't realize that she's tripped over something until she's falling into the mound of chunky, white salt that tripped her up, the skin on her knee shredding as it hits the trail. The pain burns, and she chokes back a sob as she tries to get back up - she can feel her palms starting to bleed from the force of the impact, and her knees must be torn up in ways that no one would want to see. She's not going to look at them.

But the pain cripples her, and she shudders as she looks behind her. There, the mist has almost swallowed the lawn whole, only avoiding the trails of salt that surround the lawn as it comes closer, and in the corner of the eye she can see another girl - it's Tourmaline, she realizes - who sprints away from the mist and into the mansion. She's made it.

And Colleen hasn't.

She considers lying down to die for a moment, but shakes her head and pushes herself up. No, this isn't how she's going to die. She'll die trying to get to the -

But then her mind registers the fact that the mist won't touch the _salt_ , and a scream of alarm escapes her lips before she even has a chance to hold it back.

She throws a handful of salt at the mist, and it roils backwards - it won't be touched by the stuff if it can help it. Colleen grabs another handful and stumbles away, throwing chunks of salt at the mist as it comes closer. On either side of her, the mist has surpassed her pace and is closing in on the mansion, but the trail of salt that she's remained on is untouched - it's only the piercing headache that's holding her back now.

The mist attempts to cover the only door into the mansion, but a well-aimed handful of salt scatters the stuff and she fumbles with the doorknob until it clicks open and she falls into the room. She sobs unabashedly, still on her bloodied knees - she's so close to death, but she's still _here_. She's _alive_. She made it.

Colleen, however, does have the presence of mind to dodge the spear thrown at her by Tourmaline - not bothering to listen to the screaming pain from her knees, sher rolls away and grasps a knife that lies on the tiled floor of the room.

The cannon in the distance tells her that there's only two to go.

 **And we've almost reached the finale! Also, I feel obliged to tell you all that we've surpassed Distorted's review count, which is very cool. Thank you all for continuing to support this and read, you are amazing. Next chapter, we'll see how it pays off!**

 **Also, new SYOT alert - it'll come out in the next few days. Keep your eyes peeled.**

 **4th: Magnolia Rosa-Tran, District Seven Female; Killed by Arena. Created by AmericanPI.**

Lee was the dark horse of the group, I think - most of us had disregarded her in the Capitol, myself included, but then in the bloodbath I had a stunning realization that she was wayyyyyyy too exciting of a character to kill off like that and rewrote my plot to give her one of my favourite arcs through the arena. She was based off of a popular archetype - who hasn't seen the pregnant woman who wants to survive for her baby? - but PI, her creator, gave her a lot of subversive characteristics that really flipped the trope and made her one of the most fascinating characters in the story. Tired of the mother who can't fight? Lee was willing to exploit her pregnancy to intimidate the rest of the field into letting her survive. Tired of seeing mothers have their babies before or in the Games? She was only five months along! Did you want to see one have a real shot of winning? If this wasn't her time to go now, she likely would have taken the whole thing. Lee still has a bit left to be discussed in the story, which you've probably figured out, but I'm still excited to share it with you nonetheless. Thank you, PI, for delivering yet another great character.

 **We're in the final three? Who would have thought, huh? Next chapter, we'll see who'll be leaving the arena intact and who won't - I hope you're all excited to see how they all fare, because I sure am! I'm very excited to share with you the fates of our final three, and I hope that you're ready to see it as well.**

 **I'll leave you at that. Read, review if you feel like it, and enjoy! Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	36. Arena X: Finale

Little does he know that she knows how to stop a sword.

 **.oOo.**

 **Tourmaline de Metz, 17  
District One Female  
3 Kills**

Her spear misses Colleen, but Tourmaline doesn't mind - she has plenty of others to kill the girl from Five with. She'll just have to aim better next time.

Final three, final three, final three! It's exhilarating to be here, to be only two tributes between herself and the arena. She's so close now. Just two lucky shots, and she can go home, get out of here - oh, she wants to go home. She justs wants to go home, back to her parents and her siblings, to her life, to the place where she was safe. She's almost there.

Oh, Tourmaline wants to go home. She'll do anything to make sure that she gets back right now. If she does, her family will never worry again, her siblings can live comfortably, and she can -

Her thoughts scatter when she sees the boy from Six run towards her, a sword that he must have found in the cornucopia in his hand - wait, how did he get in there before she did? - that has a dangerous silver glint. He slashes through the air once, then twice, moving closer all the while. It appears that he's trying to take her on.

Little does he know that she knows how to stop a sword.

She waits a bit longer for the boy to get closer, biding her time until his confidence rises and he raises his sword to take one final blow. And that's when Tourmaline strikes - one quick flick of her spear when the boy from Six is off-balance, just like she's been taught back home, and he's sent tumbling as his sword flies away.

Unfortunately, however, he proves to be a runner.

She curses - mildly, she's not too disappointed about this yet - and throws another spear. It misses, of course, hitting the soft metal of the cornucopia and bouncing harmlessly away into a table. She runs for another and prepares a second shot - this time, she aims at Colleen, who she's hoping to get rid of soon. That one misses, too - Colleen dodges into the cornucopia, back to an area that's plentiful with knives and other weapons. Tourmaline's not going to risk her life to chase the girl out - she'll have plenty of time to do that later. But she'll keep an eye on the girl from Five. She's underestimated the outlier before.

But not again.

The boy from Six has made it to the hallway but halts there, gazing at the mist that's starting to creep in. Tourmaline takes advantage of the moment to throw another spear and it _lands_ this time, forcing its sharp head into the outlier's leg. His leg begins to seep with blood, staining his pant leg an ugly shade of maroon, and he howls with pain. " _No!_ "

"Just run from it if it scares you that much," she replies, rolling her eyes. But Tourmaline, too, is mildly alarmed - the mist is only getting thicker, and it seems to have permeated the boundary between the arena and the mansion that they're fighting in. They all heard the cannon - that was the mist that caused the girl from Seven to die. Tourmaline doesn't want to be any closer to this stuff than she has to.

She begins to get a nasty headache, although she can't figure out why - all that she can see is that the mist is coming closer, black and foreboding and full of menace, and she thinks that she can see _eyes_ in it.

She screams.

 **.oOo.**

Should she show them? Should she deal with this? Or…

 **.oOo.**

 **Colleen Tosse, 17  
District Five Female  
2 Kills**

She starts to get worried when she hears Tourmaline, who's supposed to be the strongest person in this arena now, scream.

Did the boy from Six, Jackson, do something to her? Has he hid what he can do from the rest of the field until now? She hadn't thought that he had killed anyone so far in the Games - no, especially not when she tossed the knife at him and yelled for him to run - but maybe he had wanted it to seem that way. She had ran early from the bloodbath - was he the reason those two careers died? Was he why that alliance of the Threes had fallen apart and the boy from Three had wandered through the woods?

No, she doesn't think he's done _that_ much. But one thing seems certain - she's underestimated what he can do.

She creeps out of the cornucopia and is greeted by the sight of the mist - the foul stuff has made its way into the mansion, of all places, and continues its relentless march through the arena. Jackson and Tourmaline are panicking - the career is backing away from the mist, a spear in her hand and a terrified look on her face, and the boy from Six is crawling away from the mist, his leg bloody and torn. They have no idea how to deal with it. Should she show them? Should she deal with this? Or…

The idea of hiding the salt's purpose from the others is vanquished once a tendril of mist creeps towards Colleen, almost as if it's taunting her. Sighing, she bends down to grab a handful of the rock salt and throws it into the air - the mist dissipates until it's no longer visible, and she sighs in relief. It still works.

Tourmaline sees Colleen throw the salt into the air and follows her example, tearing open a white-blue bag and dumping it out.

Like magic, the salt keeps the mist at bay - she starts to make a steady trail around the cornucopia, one that the mist can't seem to get across. It's not as much salt as Tourmaline would like, and she grabs another bag when her first begins to empty - no wonder there are so many of them, dumped around the cornucopia. The gamemakers must have had this in plan for _ages_ , Colleen thinks.

Jackson notices it as the mist start getting too close to his leg for his liking - he claws at a bag of salt and throws it over his shoulder. The mist starts drifting backwards, comfortably away from the salt, and Colleen begins to make a trail around the cornucopia as well - she doesn't want it getting into here either.

As the two other tributes continue their efforts to keep the mist at bay and Colleen is satisfied, she drops her bag of salt and moves away. Tourmaline and Jackson don't notice her, focusing their efforts on the mist, and she heads for the cornucopia - instead of hiding inside of it, she places a knife between her teeth and climbs footholds on the side of the metal until she's reached the roof. She crouches near the tail of the cornucopia and waits - not for the others to find her, but to find each other.

She'll be safe up here.

 **.oOo.**

Tourmaline gazes at it, not figuring out why she's so transfixed by it until she realizes that it's coming straight for her throat.

 **.oOo.**

 **Tourmaline de Metz, 17  
District One Female  
3 Kills**

When the circle of salt around the cornucopia is finished, she looks for the other two tributes.

The boy from Six is still working open bags of salt and throwing them at the mist in a fit of panic, obviously worried that it'll try to get past their barrier. But Tourmaline doubts that it would be able to - why else would they have the salt? Why would the gamemakers want to end the finale, of all things, with the tributes being suffocated or whatnot by this horrible black stuff? No, they placed the salt in here for a very specific reason - and they're all lucky that they figured it out before it was too late.

Well, it was really the girl from Five who did something first - come to think of it, Tourmaline can't see Colleen _anywhere_. She tenses up, worried because she hasn't heard a cannon yet and knows that the girl has to be _somewhere_ , but a cursory glance around the room shows her that the cunning girl from Five has hidden herself. She's probably in the cornucopia or something like it, biding her time until the boy from Six and Tourmaline finish each other off.

Tourmaline's about to go look for the girl, hoping to get rid of her before Colleen kills her, but then the boy from Six rises to his feet and grabs his sword. He looks _angry_ , glaring across the room at Tourmaline before throwing his sword in a wild, stupid, hopeful throw. The sword arcs lazily through the air and Tourmaline gazes at it, not figuring out why she's so transfixed by it until she realizes that it's coming straight for her throat.

She leaps out of the way, but the hilt of the sword slams into her thigh. She falls onto the ground clumsily - far too clumsily, actually, because the sword manages to fall underneath her and cuts at her legs.

She winces when she gets back up to her feet, her hands aching from hitting the ground and sores over her body stinging from the salt she's handled. She looks down at her legs and grimaces - the left thigh seems to be fine, but her right thigh has been torn open by the weapon and is bleeding heavily. She's going to have to bandage it up soon.

But then the boy from Six runs after her, a war cry coming from his strong, tired body, and she abandons the thought of fixing herself up.

She swings the spear that's remained in her hand at the boy, and he stays out of reach of the weapon as he begins to come close. Now that Tourmaline has a good look at him, she can see that the boy from Six looks starved - his body is much thinner than back in the Capitol, where he had proven to be one of the strongest, fittest tributes there. There's barely anything that remains from the boy who had created a ten-man alliance now, nothing except for his gaunt frame and his tired, fierce green eyes.

And the fact that he's still fighting like a madman, of course.

For a moment, she lets the pain from her cut slow her as her charges again. It's a bad mistake to make now, in the thick of things. The boy's able to reach for his sword and roll away before her spear slams into the ground, getting jammed between two tiles and not budging as Tourmaline tries to pull it back up. The outlier looks up, confused, at Tourmaline - it takes him an eternity to realize that her weapon is stuck before he climbs back up, adjusts the position of his feet, and swings at her.

She runs, for what else can she do now?

 **.oOo.**

He's a wolf. A _Wolf_. He's not going to die running.

 **.oOo.**

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
District Six Male  
1 Kill**

He's starting to lose control now, he realizes as he gives chase to the girl from One. He's not thinking clearly enough to properly fight the career, to think of the - what is he forgetting now? He knows that it's important, but it's escaped him - weapons she must have around the arena, and everything else. It's like he's devolved into a wild animal, one that snarls and barks and _bites._

He's ready to fight this girl from One. He's ready to get rid of her.

He's ready to win the Hunger Games.

Jackson slices the air with his sword again, trying to get close enough to catch the girl from One. But the days of hunger and thirst and fatigue have taken its toll on him - he's not fast enough to keep up with the girl from One, let alone pass her. It's all he can do to keep pace with her, pushing every screaming muscle, every haggard breath, every whimper of pain into action, into movement. He's focusing on nothing but the girl from One now.

But then she does something that he doesn't suspect.

She leads him through the wreckage of the goods of the cornucopia, running further and further until she spins around and pushes a cart of weapons at Jackson. He crashes into the mess of steel, wincing as the sharp metal edges dig into his skin and sucking in his breath when he hits the ground. The girl from One is more prudent - she runs after his as he's trying to push his way back up, preparing to throw another spear of hers at his head as he tears himself away from the cart and away from her aim. But she's too good of an aim for him to escape for long - as he stumbles away, her spear whistles past his face and hits a crate of supplies, vibrating from the impact.

He can't stay still long enough to let the career try that again.

He begins the desperate run again, weaving through carts and crates and bags in his efforts to escape the girl. He doesn't run in a straight line if he can help it - no, that would only give her an easier time of pinning him to the wall like a child does an insect. He's not an insect.

He's a wolf. A _Wolf_. He's not going to die running.

It proves harder than it looks to stop in his tracks when he's been running so quickly, and Jackson avoids a collision with a crate full of sharp shreds of metal as he comes to a halt. The girl from One is also running too quickly, and he uses her quick, uneven sprint to catch her off guard. When she's close enough, he tackles the career and sends her flying into the side of the cornucopia.

His head hits the side of the cornucopia along with the girl, and the room begins to spin around as he opens his eyes back up. It takes the rest of his energy to reach for a knife and begin to stab at his foe, digging into the side of her face and tearing at the muscle in his bid to get rid of her. But she pushes him off of her - she must be stronger than she looks - and screams through the pain, blood running down from the jagged wound in her cheek as she thrusts her spear towards him.

And then - and then they both fall to the ground like a bag of bricks, Jackson's headache beginning once more.

The girl from Five has arrived.

 **.oOo.**

Colleen won't risk it. Now with the girl from One.

 **.oOo.**

 **Colleen Tosse, 18  
District Five Female  
2 Kills**

She leaps from the roof of the cornucopia and down to the two struggling tributes, her breath being knocked out of her as she hits the floor. Before anyone tries to grab after her, Colleen rolls away from Jackson and Tourmaline with what energy she can muster. It's the right move - instead of being sliced to bits by the spear that Tourmaline is still holding, Colleen manages to escape with the knife in her hand. She has a chance. She has a _chance_.

She notices the boy from Six beginning to stir and gets up to her feet, making sure to keep out of range of the spear. Even if Tourmaline is still woozy from being slammed by Colleen - Colleen's body still aches, and her knees are close to just giving up now - Colleen won't risk it. Now with the girl from One.

"You're…. You're here?" mutters the boy from Six, his face gaunt and hollow. He looks much weaker from their meeting, where she had killed the boy from One and convinced Tourmaline that it was Jackson. Yes, he looks much worse for wear - has he been eating? "So there's three of us still… I thought I missed a cannon or something."

"Should we finish her off?" Colleen asks, pointing towards Tourmaline. "She's the most dangerous opponent you have left, you know - if she's dead, your chances will rise. Would you rather have fifty-fifty odds, or fifty-fifty odds when the other fifty belongs to a _career_?"

Tourmaline's eyes widen in understanding, and she tries to scramble away. The boy from Six is still gazing down at her in a strange, confused manner - he hasn't made up his mind yet, it seems. Hoping that he comes to his senses before Tourmaline properly does, Colleen makes another stupid choice that she hopes will pay off - she dives for the spear and tugs it out of Tourmaline's hands, throwing it away as hard as she can. The weapon clatters to a halt when it spirals into the side of the cornucopia, and Colleen begins to breathe properly again - Tourmaline can't fight them properly without the spear. She's that much safer.

"So?" she asks, looking to Jackson. "Or do you want to play right into her hands? You want to die at her hands, just like her allies?"

Something inside of Jackson hardens when he hears that last push of a sentence, and he slams his fist into Tourmaline's side. The girl from One wheezes in pain, yet is strong enough to hold what's left of her energy together - she reaches for Jackson's foot and _yanks_ , pulling him down along with her. They claw at one another, and Colleen waits for one of them to start to dominate the battle - sooner or later, one of the two will give in.

Jackson looks bone-tired, pushing himself through the fight with stamina alone, yet it's Tourmaline who gives up first. Her face sags when the boy gets a firm grip on her windpipe and tries to crush it, eyes flickering open and shut. Jackson proves to be too tired to finish her off like that, and he turns to reach for a knife as Tourmaline begins to shut her eyes. "What do you have to say?" the boy from Six asks when Colleen throws one of her knives towards him, looking down at the girl from One. "Any last words?"

When Tourmaline speaks, her eyes open and harden like the gems that citizens from One prize so highly, that they break their backs to gift to the nation. But she's not looking at Jackson - instead, her gaze fixes upon Colleen. "You - you deserved it, you know," she chokes out, then tries to push back at Jackson one last time.

Tourmaline doesn't know it, but as Jackson slashes at her throat with his knife, leaving long, ragged cuts, her face softens into the most angelic look that Colleen's ever seen.

Colleen takes a step forward when the boy from Six pauses, then another. And then she pulls the boy from Six off of the career with a wave of rage powering her body - he's not going to rip the girl apart. "But she's not dead!" protests Jackson as he tenses against Colleen's hold on him, pushing her off to turn around and face her. "We have to kill her!"

"She's finished already," Colleen whispers, and stabs the boy from Six in the chest with her last knife.

 **.oOo.**

Is he going blind, or is this what happens when people die?

 **.oOo.**

 **Jackson Kennedy, 18  
District Six Male  
1 Kill**

He stands there for a moment, just staring at the knife that's cut through his shirt and is buried in his chest, next to his heart, the blade digging through his skin like barbed wire. He stares at the hilt of the knife, which is now the only visible part of the weapon left. "I'm… so, this is how it all ends, huh?" he whispers up to the girl from Five, then sinks to his knees.

He's dying.

He can feel the blood welling at the surface of his skin and trickling down his chest. Warm, sticky blood, the blood that has run through his veins ever since he was a baby. He read somewhere, once, that blood is blue in the body - it's only when it reacts with the oxygen in the air that it turns red, ensuring that the only visible blood to the world would be crimson. No wonder veins are blue, including the ones that run down from his heart and into the rest of the body. Or are those named something else? He knows that one of them must be pierced by the blade, though - his breath is slipping away from him with every moment, and he stares up into the air without seeing anything except the face of the girl from Five.

Is he going blind, or is this what happens when people die?

His body shudders reflexively, and he begins to feel cold - all of the blood in his body must be rushing to vital areas in an attempt to protect what organs are still viable. He's seen people die before, and not just in the Hunger Games - there was a man in the street once when he was a little kid, a man who was shot in the face over something as simple as a vial of morphling. He bled out right then and there, his brains on the sidewalk and his life ebbing away for all to see. Jackson's mother had tried to cover his face, but he watched through the gaps between her fingers - there was something, a morbid curiousity, that made him watch. He hadn't known death then, but he soon did - it was hard to _not_ learn about death when he lived in District Six.

He continues to breathe, but it's to little avail - they're small, shallow, quick breaths that rack his body in more shudders. Why hasn't he died yet? He would have thought that the girl from Five would kill him by now, but maybe she's dying too. Or maybe she's gone already, away to the Capitol to enjoy her riches as a team of Capitol medics patiently wait for him to die.

Or maybe she's scared.

His vision is blurry now, and his headache is too fierce for him to focus on anything, but he can still see the girl from Five above him. She's not moving - it's like instead of finishing him off, she's simply waiting for him to die, watching him slowly bleed away like he did the morphling addict all those years ago. He used to think that if he died, it would be quick - a knife to the back, a gun, the tautness of a Capitol rope if he ever fought against a peacekeeper.

But his body is taking its sweet time to die here.

What would Selena think of this? He hasn't even thought of the girl since the train, but her memory suddenly rushes into his mind - her laugh, her smile, her lips. He never got to kiss those lips, but that's alright - someone else will get them instead. He's alright if she's happy. He remembers how she had cried in the Goodbye Rooms, how she told him to win, how she cried, and he frowns. He hopes that she's okay. She shouldn't cry because he's dying. She shouldn't throw her life away to mourn a guy who didn't even get to love her properly.

"It's okay," Jackson Kennedy whispers to an unseen lover, then dies with a sigh.

 **You thought that this would be full of sadness for y'all well jokes on you I nearly sobbed writing this**

 **This chapter is sponsored by Coldplay - Fix You! Yes I am the most basic (TM)**

 **The placements will make a bit more sense in the epilogue. Bear with me.**

 **3rd: Jackson Kennedy, District Six Male; Killed by Colleen Tosse. Created by Greywolf44.**

Jackson was the underdog of this finale, and in the end he just wasn't able to crest the final gap and become this year's victor. But I enjoyed him a lot - at the beginning of writing Hiraeth, I overlooked him a bit and didn't think that he would go very far, focusing on giving him a bit of poignancy in the beginning because he was a fun character and didn't deserve to be forgotten. Originally, my plan had someone like Callous or Luke making it this far, with hopes of having one of those two become victor while people like Jackson weren't prominent in the arena. Later on, when I chose my new victor, Jackson still stayed in the background and Tristan ascended to the guy supposed to make it to the final five, but then I had a major change of heart once I began writing his alliance. He proved to be a dynamic, exciting character who spurred a lot of action and just was easy to write for me - something that got him into the final three. He was never planned to become a victor, but he would have been a lovely one: there's nothing Greywolf44 does better than create solid outlier males for me to ruthlessly kill. Thank you, Greywolf, for Jackson!

 **2nd: Tourmaline de Metz, District One Female; Killed by Jackson Kennedy. Created by incandescentserendipity.**

Oh, Tourmaline probably would have won the Games in any other SYOT and I feel terribly guilty for letting her fall this close to winning the Hunger Games - yet, I imagine she'd accept the fact that she lost here. She was one of the rare careers this year who came into the arena without anything holding her back and ready to actually DO things, which already made her one of my favourite tributes in a pack that was absolutely full of people who just kept melting down. The fact that she had a really well developed personality that I absolutely loved, motivations that pushed her into the finale when everything was against her, and a realistic, interesting backstory that I hope I portrayed well made her even that much more fun to write, and I've had her in the final eight ever since my first draft. The one thing holding her back was that I had another tribute in mind for victor and I could never quite justify Tourmaline placing above the said victor. But she was still one of the best tributes this year, and deserved far better than second. I guess silver really does look good on her. Thank you, incandescentserendipity, for the strongest career this year by far!

 **Victor: Colleen Tosse, District Six Female; 3 Kills. Created by Platrium.**

Colleen, Colleen, Colleen. Colleen was in the making from Plat for quite some time - I think around April of 2018? - and has been a prominent figure in Hiraeth's tribute cast ever since. I fell in love with her backstory and character, and she was an exciting person to write in the Capitol and arena, always with a plan up her sleeve and trying to think of a new way to make her way into the end of the Hunger Games. I couldn't find a way to keep her out of the final five, and she hovered in the upper region ever since the beginning of my planning, but only became my planned victor as I finished writing the reapings. I had become disillusioned with a few of my prior plans, and Colleen was the only character that got me excited as a possible victor at that moment. I tentatively started planning a victory arc, and it fit like a glove onto Hiraeth - although tributes like Tourmaline and Lee challenged her for the spot throughout the arena and I had my doubts, in the end there was only one tribute I could feel comfortable making a victor. That was Colleen. Thank you Platrium, for a spy who was so much more than her trope.

 **And like that, Hiraeth's finale is over. It feels so strange to be finished the arena - we're only one chapter away from FINISHING Hiraeth! How crazy is that? I'm in shock that it's gone by so quickly, even though it's been over a year since I began writing for this story. I've loved all of your characters, and everyone who supported me in the reviews - I'll shout out names in a later chapter, but the main four to six reviewers know who they are. Thank you, all, for making this such a great journey. I hope you're satisfied with the end of the arena, and our new victor.**

 **Also if you want to try throwing another creation into a JAJ SYOT there's a new one coming out today... keep an eye out, maybe?**

 **Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ**


	37. Hiraeth

For weeks after the Games, people gossiped about why Colleen didn't finish off Jackson and Tourmaline then and there - was it because her mind had finally broken? Could she not find the strength to take her knife and finish them right then and there? Or was it something else that had caused the girl from Five to curl up and wait for Jackson, then Tourmaline - who had clung to life just long enough to take second place from her killer - to die on their own?

For a while, Colleen's not sure if she has an answer to that. In the moment, she just rocked back and forth like the world didn't exist, like everything had been forgotten - she couldn't move, even if she tried.

When the medics come to evacuate Colleen from the arena, she almost starts to cry.

She's kept in the hospital for a short amount of time, the only concerns of the doctors in charge of her health being centred on the weight that she's lost in the arena. She's lost over a dozen pounds in the arena from the lack of food, and her body is still weak from the ordeals she's been put through in the arena. But several small surgeries later, all to ensure that Colleen is fit to be seen in public as the 22nd victor of the Hunger Games, she's allowed to be seen by Rosanna.

Rosanna rushes into the hospital room with tearstains on her faces, scooping up Colleen and squeezing her so, so, so tightly. "Colleen, I'm - I'm so proud, my dear."

Colleen looks up at Rosanna's face, knowing in an instant how much this victory meant to the woman - after twenty-one years, Rosanna finally has someone to share the pain with.

"Thank you, for everything," she says with a smile, and the two share a quick hug. But not for long - Colleen needs to be outfitted for her final interview.

She's given a grey, otherworldly gown to wear to the interviews, one that shimmers like silver and hovers in the air like the mist that pervaded this year's arena. Her blonde hair is done up in a tight bun, diamonds bringing it to life, and her face is carefully painted with the makeup that she ascends to the stage with. When Colleen looks in the mirror, she sees a woman with dark blue eyes and a mysterious smile, a smile that hints at her three kills. It's a fabrication by the Capitol, twisting her into the character that they want her to play.

Yet when she looks closely, she sees herself all too well.

"How does it feel, being the next to return to District Five?" the interviewer asks, her eyes laced with awe and sympathy for Colleen. She's kinder than Colleen thought she would be - whenever Colleen stumbles on a question, the woman interrupts her to poke fun at herself, self-depreciation distracting the audience from Colleen's own mistakes.

"I'm happy to represent my district, and to have performed so well for you all," replies Colleen. Her only expression is a light, airy smile, her lips as red as Jackson's blood, and the Capitol erupts in applause. "I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't stolen from the careers and played the game like that - I'd probably still be lying in the arena." It's an exaggeration, for everyone knows that the bodies of the tributes are taken from the arena once they officially perish, but the Capitol gobbles it right up.

The recap of the Games begins to play, and Colleen watches intently - from the bloodbath that she had missed, where Emma had stunned the audience with her kills and the careers had almost fallen apart, to Lee's manipulation of the alliances, taking what she wanted and killing the boy from Three before falling short of the mark when the mist overtook her, to the disintegration of Jackson's alliance as the careers made their biggest play of the game.

And there's herself, as well, interspersed with highlights from the various alliances and mishaps within the arena. At first, arena-Colleen is quiet and uneventful - she watches herself scurry to the lake, set up her camp, and begin to play the long, fretful waiting game that so many lost this year. But soon, arena-Colleen becomes bored - she starts taking walks through the arena, wincing at her headaches and spotting the boy from Three running through the forest that she hides in. And right after, she happens upon the largest fight yet in the Games, burying a knife in Duchess' throat and throwing her weapon to Jackson before leaving with what remained of the two alliances. The crowd begins to cheer again when they see Colleen begin her manipulation of the two careers - as Lee kills Antimony and Jackson wanders aimlessly throughout the arena, there's Colleen, cooking meals and building up trust with the three before cutting her ties off in one dinner.

Colleen winces when she sees Emma die and Tourmaline stumble to her knees in what remained of the supplies in the cornucopia - she hadn't realized what she had done to the girl from One. But Tourmaline, who has been fighting to keep her alliance together through thick and thin during her time in the Games, now begins to thrive on her own - she hunts, she waits, and she builds up her energy in the walls of the mansion. Jackson and Colleen, in comparison, seem to be walking around like lost causes - she can practically see Jackson losing weight every hour, and arena-Colleen becomes more ragged every night.

And then the finale begins, from the epic race to the cornucopia to the moment where the mist infiltrates the mansion. Colleen sucks in her breath when she watches herself push Jackson into finishing Tourmaline off - when the girl from One whispers words of approval to her, she bites back tears that would stain the flawless makeup on her face. She's not going to cry here, she's _not_ going to let anyone see how weak she felt there. She hasn't cried since Turmeric died. She won't do it now.

And in a moment, it's all over - Colleen stabs Jackson in the chest with a vicious turn of her knife, and the boy from Six bleeds out just before Tourmaline's body gives up fighting for her life. The last image of Colleen is not her lying in the arena, waiting for the two to die, but the fierce gaze she gives the medics when they take her away - the camera focuses on a harsh, bitter flicker that darkens her blue eyes. They aren't her eyes anymore. They're the eyes of a victor.

The applause comes in loud, uproarious waves once the recap has finished, and Colleen feels like she's being knocked backwards by the force of the noise. But it finishes eventually, as it always does, and the interviewer turns to Colleen for one last question. "How do you feel about having won? Do you have any regrets in the arena? Would you have played the Games differently if you had a second chance?"

Colleen returns the question with a cool gaze, one that's later transformed into the cover image of Panem's biggest gossip magazine. _Colleen Tosse - Cold as Ice!_ the title screams, and it instantly becomes one of the most sought-after copies in the magazine's history, no doubt because it features an in-depth narrative, complete with photos, of Colleen's journey through the arena. "I think..." she begins, then seems to reconsider the question before starting again. "I would have done nothing differently. I played it as best as I could, and I hope it was enough for everyone here."

President Ember crowns Colleen with a tiara made of silver thorns that smell like the salt from the arena, and Colleen stands as best as she can for the nation. But then President Ember whispers an address that chills Colleen's bones, and she does her best to not crumple like wet paper before hurrying off the stage.

 _The president knows. She knows where Colleen worked. She knows what she did._

 _They all know._

A few hours after, Colleen is taken to a small photoshoot - the current big story in the Capitol is how eager medics managed to save Magnolia Rosa-Tran's baby as her body continued to shut off completely. Although the tribute had died in the arena, her baby had survived just long enough to be transported immediately to an intensive care unit where he lay, weighing just barely a pound. Colleen watches as the baby quietly squirms in his incubator, his tiny body attached to tubes that helps him breathe, feed, and live until he's strong enough to leave the incubator. She's told that his name is Leonard, and would she like to choose a middle name as an esteemed victor?

She picks Turmeric for her fellow tribute's child, and leaves with the smallest hint of a smile on her face. At least one other was able to leave the arena.

It wasn't only Colleen who was allowed to have a happy ending.

The victors greet her with open arms and no visible resentment - although the victors from One seems resentful about her victory, the others are happy to meet her. Isa and Maddie happily introduce her to the other outliers, and Colleen even finds time to talk to some of the careers - all of them understand. What's strange is that they seem to expect her to be filled with guilt, to be haunted by her kills. She can't find room for those emotions inside her, even if she tries: she knows that she killed them, but she's not resentful. It was simply something that had to be done, something that let her live. That's more enough to excuse the fact that she ended the lives of three tributes.

Maybe she's just a monster, but Colleen thinks that she can live with that.

The ride home is quiet, dreary, long, and everything Colleen wishes she could keep forever - she stays in her room with just her thoughts, reminiscing on what was. She almost doesn't want to go home - she's scared to know what's changed, what the president has done to destroy her past life because Colleen _knows_ that rebel activities won't go unpunished, and she doesn't want to settle into life as a victor. She'd rather stay on the train, blissfully ignorant of what may happen.

Rosanna accompanies her home, both holding bags that they'll bring Colleen's essential possessions back to the victor's village. Colleen is the one to step up to the small home and knock on its front door, waiting for her grandmother to open it up and welcome her home with joyous eyes.

No one answers.

After five terrible minutes of waiting at the door, hoping against hope that her grandmother is just in the home or away, she musters up the courage to open the door with the key that's hidden in a flowerpot and look inside. There's no one home - nothing except a small note left on the table. Colleen reads it with a sinking heart, Rosanna placing a hand on her shoulder as she reads _Dear Ms. Tosse, we are very sorry inform you that your grandmother has passed away as of…_

A half-finished chess game stands next to the note, her grandmother's queen having fallen down amongst the rest of her pieces.

It's obvious what it means.

She…

She…

She…

She doesn't remember the next few days.

It's a few days later, in the middle of a warm Five night where mockingjays sing from their perches in the park nearby and where the wind sings the city to sleep, that Colleen finds that she's come to terms with it all.

She knows that she'll never get back her home again. As surely as the stars twinkle through the clouds that night, she'll never go back to the same world she knew. The centre where she had been given assignments is burnt down, her home is abandoned, and those she had worked with have disappeared. Ember's warned her not to go back - the president has been merciful to Colleen for her role, which remains hidden to the public, but Colleen knows that she can't go back.

It's gone.

There'll always be a longing in her heart for what once was, like the hole left when Turmeric died, but Colleen's found that there are ways to fill her heart back up. Rosanna loves to bake, and her children are unaware of what either woman has done, just that they are loved. Spending time with the Goulds makes her happy. Little things make her happy - like food that she's made herself, the smell of flowers on the breeze, laughter. It's good to be happy.

She might have lost everything, she thinks, but she'll be able to find some of it again. She can make a new home.

She can be at peace.

 **.oOo.**

Carameuse wakes up at the same time that Colleen makes up her mind to stop dwelling on the past.

Her head throbs as she opens her eyes, and she realizes that her hands are bound to the seat that she's been sleeping in - as she tries to move them, she realizes that she's trapped. She can't get out.

"Carameuse?" asks a familiar voice, and she peers up to see the president of Panem above her. "You're awake?" asks Fiammetta again, coming closer this time. Her hair is still as red as ever, and she looks unharmed. She looks safe.

"Why… why am I here?" Carameuse croaks, finding that her throat is parched. What she wouldn't give for a glass of water right now! "Why am I here?"

"Oh, Carameuse," replies Fiammetta, and her eyes brim with something that looks like regret. "Oh, Carameuse, I'm sorry. But I've been informed that you hid some of the truth from me - you knew that it was the bartender before, didn't you?"

"No, I -" Carameuse begins to replies, but Fiammetta cuts her off. "I -"

"I know that you're against me. One of your suspects - I'll leave them unnamed out of courtesy - complained about what you said, and we did some research - your loyalties don't lie with me. Don't try to squirm out of it, you _know_ what you did. I can't trust you anymore."

"What have I done?" Carameuse asks, and Fiammetta steps closer. In the background, Carameuse sees other figures - peacekeepers, one of them holding something in their hands. Something _sharp_.

"I'm sorry," whispers Fiammetta, and she points to the background. "Because you've done so much for me, you'll be allowed to live - as an avox, of course. _You see, Carameuse, you seem to know too much - I can't let someone like you have as much power as you did. I can't lose this_." She stops whispering for a moment, and points to someone who stands at the edge of the room. "I've found other advisors and those who know the things you do as well - there's a boy who's quite bright and _extremely_ loyal to my cause. Have you ever heard of Coriolanus Snow?"

 _The figure -_

 _The avox who looked exactly like the boy -_

Carameuse would scream at Fiammetta to kill the boy before he kills her, to not let him get close enough to corrupt her, but then the peacekeepers come towards her and pry open her mouth to forever mark her as an avox. In a moment, Carameuse is led away in chains.

Colleen has no idea what's happened, but at that moment she feels a shiver run down her spine and looks uneasily out into the city.

She, too, knows that something is wrong.

Something else has forever been left behind.

 **It's over.**

 **It's over!**

 **After a year and a half, I've finally finished Hiraeth. I couldn't have done it without you all. I started this story hoping to sharpen my writing skills and prove that I could finish another SYOT - and then I disappeared for a while. During the hiatus that lasted a year, I vowed that I wouldn't abandon this - the thought to leave Hiraeth behind was something that I never even dreamed of. You guys were a big inspiration, encouraging me with reviews and sharing your thoughts all the time, and it was great to have you join me on this ride. Thank you so much.**

 **Special thanks to Sparky She-Demon, incandescentserendipity, Greywolf44, and Platrium for being so positive and reviewing almost every chapter. You guys, along with the lovely goldie031, 66samvr, RoadieMcRoadface, and others made this journey so worthwhile. I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Before I leave, I'll encourage you to all submit to my new SYOT - Thrill of the Chase. It's going to be quite a fun ride and a rather unorthodox SYOT, and I hope to see you all join me. It'd be great o have you back.**

 **Thank you all. I'm so glad that I got to finish this. I had regrets about plotlines, I know I could have written arcs better and made this story go in so many different directions, but I'm happy with where it is now. This has been one of my favourite casts to write, and I'm glad that I got to write it through.**

 **One last review time, maybe? Also go look at Thrill of the Chase nowwwww pls I'll love you forever.**

 **Thank you. Until we see each other again, TheAmazingJAJ**


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